The Tale of Mithos: At Journey's Embarkment
by Regashi
Summary: Book One of The Tale of Mithos the Hero and the journey he and his companions took that would change the world forever. On Hiatus until I get all my little chickadees in a row, not abandoned
1. A Story For the Ages

**Brand New Author's Note of Random Jargon: Hello all! Welcome to my fic entailing the journey 4000 years ago that Mithos and his friends embarked on to save the world from utter collapse. I've always wanted to attempt tackling such a detailed and complex idea for the past, so no time like the present, right? **

**Eheh, time traveling joke... sigh.. I know. Bad Pun.**

**Also, I looked back at my original prologue and I realized that I didn't like it too much, so I decided to rewrite it. It didn't help the angle at which I want to proceed with my story, so revisions away!**

**I do intend to continue the story after I complete my revisions, so have no fear, those you who grace my humble fic with your presence. I shall return to my posting spree after my fic spring cleaning is done.**

**Edit: Woo, I have completed my revision! Onward to Posting!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ToS. Wish I did, sadly I don't... le sigh. Oh well, I shall endure, because there's not a chance they're giving me the rights to ToS in exchange for the lint in my pocket.**

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Prologue: A Story for the Ages

_A long time ago in ages past, there were two countries in which lived together in harmony. These lands coexisted in piece, worked together, and flourished throughout the world, with bountiful lands and vast seas surrounding the people, animals and plants in perfect cooperation._

_Both of these countries were cared for with the loving guidance and watchful eye of the Great Kharlan Tree, the source of all mana. The Kharlan Tree looked upon the countries as if they were its children and smiled as they grew and lived together through time, thriving off of it's life giving mana._

_However, that time was fleeting._

_One sad and grim day, a dark wind fell out of the sky and blew across the land, turning the once amiable skies a murky grey and made the plants wither and die. _

"_What is this?" The Kharlan Tree gasped in astonishment when he saw the grass wither all along his holy home. "Why is the mana in the grass so sad?" Lifting it's boughs, the Kharlan Tree gazed upon the land and was horrified by what met it's gaze._

_The two countries, once great friends and comrades, were bickering amongst themselves, arguing heatedly, and battling each other for all they were worth. Around them, the mana in the air dried up until it was dusty and worthless, and the ground turned to ash._

_Appalled by what it saw, the Kharlan Tree brought forth its limbs and pulled each country apart, broke apart the earth and forced them across the sea from each other._

"_Why are you fighting?" The tree asked, hurt by their obvious distaste for one another. The first country, one of many mountains and forests, snorted and pointed to the other._

"_He is much too different from me and he will not see that my way is the best." He replied. The second country, a large plain filled land with deserts and seas, scoffed and turned to the tree._

"_No, my methods are the best and he will not acknowledge me for my prowess or my ideas." He retorted. The tree, heartbroken to see that its children were battling each other so, looked upon them both and shook its canopy._

"_You must stop your fighting, because you hurt the land with your hatred and spur foul evil with your bickering." The Kharlan Tree told them. "Cease your ways and return to the way you once were. As friends."_

_Looking upon each other, the countries laughed and turned back to the tree._

"_How could we possibly become friends again?" The country to the left asked. _

"_Yes, we are much too different to ever be friends." The second country to the right added hotly._

"_That does not matter if you are different." The Kharlan Tree replied. "You are both the same in essence and therefore must both work together for the sake of the world and all who live in it. You are both very important and special in your own unique ways, and you must utilize your gifts in order to keep the world at peace, as it was meant to be."_

_The words of the Kharlan Tree touched the countries and pierced their hearts with it's will. Turning to each other, these two countries realized the error of their ways, and extended a hand of friendship once more._

_After that, the two countries returned to a life of peace, and that was the beginning of the Age of Peace that lasted a thousand generations, still gazed upon by the loving eye of the Mana Tree._

The people of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla had all been told the Legend of the Age of Peace when they were nothing more than wee children as they drifted off to sleep, while stories of two countries and their tree guardian danced in their minds. Tales of a time in which everyone worked together, did good deeds and cherished the land lulled them all into a soft and deep slumber, awaiting the next day with the hope they too would see such a lovely sight as the giving tree of life coming to visit them with peace.

However, anyone who was old enough to leave the house by themselves knew that that story was nothing more than a fairy tale that parents told their children so they could sleep soundly, nothing more, nothing less.

For longer than most who could remember and longer still for those who could not, the two countries of Tethe'alla and Sylvarant had been engaged in the bloodiest and most gruesome war to ever grace their world in recorded history. Most people believed that at one point, both of the countries probably had lived together in peace, but the idea of them joining together in mutual friendship was laughable at best.

It was a very well known face through both lands that the Sylvaranti loathed the Tethe'allans and the Tethe'allans returned the favor with interest. Each time they descended upon the land to strike down their foes, the violence and merciless hatred between the two lands grew stronger and more intense. No matter who ended as the victor, more loathing and antipathy spawned through the field, the victors disgusted by the losing team at their loss in battle and the losers of battle ripe with contempt and detestation over their fallen comrades.

The war between the two kingdoms raged onward, men young and old clashing with each other on the battlefield, on the seas and eventually in the air with the incorporation of new engineering and weapons. Those inventions both lands developed not only intensified the warlike relationship between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla, but also spurred a newfound wave of contemptuous ambition towards creating more powerful and destructive weapons to use against the opposing countries.

Magitechnology, the pinnacle of mortal ingenuity, rose the magnitude of the war between the regions from a struggle of strength to one of malignant and savage eminence, that of which the world had never seen before. The sleek and paramount warmongering weapons, however, consumed a vast amount of mana, the breath of life given to the people by the holy Kharlan Tree. Though, no one seemed to mind very much. After all, there was a war going on. Little things such as used up resources was merely a consequence.

New and more efficacious weapons were unleashed onto the fields of battle on a daily basis and many more were secretly in production, just itching to be introduced. Because of the new technological ascents that enhanced the militaristic status of both armies, the strategies of both bellicose forces became crueler, more ruthless and hellbent on the other's imminent demise. On the battlefield, it was no longer a matter of pride or defending the welfare of their homeland. The objective had shifted long ago from honor and pride to annihilating the enemy by any means necessary, a qualifier that the armies had no problem applying to their strategies.

Magitechnology had also managed to squirm its way into the lives of the civilians as well as that of the military. Machines had quickly replaced the menial tasks that humans no longer wished to sully their hands with and with machines, came an abundant tendency to become lazy and bored. So, to cope with their boredom, the humans began to devise new methods that would make their lives just that much easier, which led to the birth of more advanced and convenient magitechnology. Along with the contemporary devices came an abhorrent consumption of mana, as the machines needed mana in order to properly function and save the humans time and effort.

As a thousand years passed and as the war had no signs of slowing down, let alone coming to a long deserved end, the countries seemed to be jogging in place. Soldiers continued to lose their lives for a war in which no one could even remember the reason that it began in the first place, and every day the war repeated itself. Day in, day out it was the same thing. Soldiers were sent to the battlefield, armed with the latest technology that they could wield, and cut down each other like trees with a chain saw.

However, even thought the war was a constant aspect in the corner of their mind's eyes, those who were not directly affected by the mindless bloodshed went about their business, living their lives in blissful separation from the violent reality that took place throughout the world. As long as they were not involved, the people had learned to live with the brutal onslaught of war that plagued their lands. The topic would come up every once in a while during conversational topics, but it was dismissed casually like the next meal or whether or not it would rain. No one paid the old teachings any mind any longer, that of the tree of life, the summon spirits who assisted the tree throughout the world and the meaning of mana itself.

It had become irrelevant to their lives.

Or so they thought.

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All alone in the Land of Kharlan, the Tree of Life, the Tree of Mana sat in solitude, it's precious gifts squandered by the selfish and egotistic desires of men. All around the trunk of the tree, the once pristine emerald grass that swept all along the field had dulled in it's wake and the color had seeped out of the tips so it was crinkly to the touch. Up above, the trunk of the tree had also dulled in it's once vibrant luster, the formerly deep rich color of the bark now a paled version of what it once was. The leaves about it's branches had also lost their gorgeous pallor and resembled half eaten overly cooked spinach leaves, limp and sickly pale.

The tree had been forsaken, forsaken by the humans who used it's mana for eradicative and pernicious warfare that only killed others, themselves and the earth around them. It had been forsaken by the elves, the ones who had planted it and promised to watch over it as it grew into a fully formed tree. At the beginning, the elves had been true to their words, but as time passed and the war steadily progressed on, the elves had turned their focuses inward. As a collective, they decided early on that humans were nothing but trouble and thus isolated themselves within their tiny village, never daring to venture outside. It was too much of a risk that they might too be drawn into the bloodshed, so ignoring the war completely, they found, was a much better alternative.

As a result, the Kharlan Tree sat alone, forgotten by all who it provided so much and left to it's own devices. The giver of life had been completely wrapped in seclusion, forever locked in it's fauna quarantine. However, that wasn't all.

The tree was lonely.

A tad unusual for the average tree to suffer from loneliness, but then again, the Kharlan Tree was not a typical tree either. It longed for someone, anyone to visit it, take the time to rest underneath it's boughs and maybe even talk to it. Share a conversation, a story, or maybe just discuss the weather. It didn't care. Just something to rescue it from its reclusive confinement.

Suddenly, an ear shattering explosion off in the distance destroyed the tranquility of the Holy Land of Kharlan, it's steady silence broken into a thousand pieces and sent crashing to the forest floor. The force of the impact shook the tree's branches and several limbs snapped and went hurtling to the ground. One of the many battles that commenced between the two countries ensued just beyond the tipped peaks that surrounded the tree, it's monstrous presence plowing through the fields. More explosions echoed through the sky and as the battle went on, the air around the Giant Kharlan Tree was completely bombarded with the horrid sounds of warfare.

As the fighting ensued, the very atmosphere around the tree began to change. The oxygen, usually rich with mana and life, became hard and dry to the taste. The woods below grew brown and crunchy with each blast, while the animals that made the bushes below their home rapidly dashed as fast as they could out of the haven, their once lush houses now spiky dead husks.

The magitechnology from the battle beyond the mountains was sucking the mana, the very life out of the woods around the Holy Ground of Kharlan.

Letting out a shudder, the tree swayed from side to side, as if in a tremendous amount of pain and the mist of mana seeped out of it's branches, sinking towards the earth. The cloud of mist poured down out of the tree and collected at the bottom of the trunk near the roots like a patch of steam just recently released by a geyser. As it congealed on the bottom, the mist took the form of a young man with long woven silver hair and a set of white robes. While he was visible to the naked eye, the form was semi transparent, as if he was a person made from fogged sheet glass. Groaning in pain, the figure lurched over, clutching his stomach and reeled back into the tree as yet another explosion erupted from the yonder battle. Gasping in agony, the spirit stared up into the grey sky and clutched the edges of the fading bark on the tree.

'.. Help.... anyone... help...' The faded vision then sank back into the tree, it's form absorbed by the bark, and said no more.

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**Aha! prologue revised and whatnot. Hooray! It's a bit shorter than what I normally write, but that shall be rectified in future chapters.**

**Martel: Poor Tree...**

**Me: ... Yeah..**

**Please review and read on!**


	2. A Walk to the Well

Disclaimer- I don't own ToS or the characters, wish as I may.

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Chapter One- A Walk to the Well

In the early hours of the morning, the village of Heimdall laid peacefully dormant, still slumbering in quiet harmony with the animals and birds. Well, perhaps not the birds. The birds were all awake and chirped happily in the trees, as if letting the forest know that it had slept a little too long. The usually busy paths of the market were barren of people and the rustling of the leaves echoed through the tired street. Dew dripped from the grass onto the path, darkening it and making the stones shiny in the morning sun. No one was up.

Almost no one.

A figured moved down the path at a brisk pace, humming to herself as she did. The wind gently grazed the long sleeves of her blouse and flounced her hair from side to side as she walked. A bucket swinging from her hands, she paused a moment and listened to the birds, her mint green hair swishing to a stop. Large green eyes locked with the blue and red birds and she listened to their morning chorus for a while. Once the birds had stopped chirping, she clapped a little, which caused them to jump in surprise that someone had been paying close attention.

"You sure are up early today." She smiled at the birds. The birds paused, and then chirped at her some more. Laughing a little, she brushed her hair out of her face.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak bird, but I'm sure that whatever you are saying, it's cheery." She replied and then looked down the path again.

"Hm.. I wonder why the well is always so far away." She mused to herself, picking the pace up again as she went. "Ah, well. That means I get to enjoy the music of the birds, though what they're singing is beyond me."

She continued down the still and bare path, her soft shoes landing on the cobblestones. By the time she finally reached the old and decrepit well at the far end of the road, the birds had all but left for another chorus spot and silence filled the air.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to silence like that.." She said to herself as she hooked up the large bucket to the rope and lowered it down with the old fashioned crank. "It's uneasy."

A large sploosh sounded from the well below and the young woman looked into the well.

"Well, at least there's water this time." She sighed and turned the crank some more. Once she felt that was enough time for the water to fill the bucket, she pulled the crank in the opposite direction so it would come up. The process took a little longer than before, since the bucket now weighed about twenty pounds more than it had prior to her dumping it into the well. About ten minutes of struggling with the bucket and crank later, she managed to hoist the bucket out of the well and unhook it from the rope. Now that she had what she needed, she then began the long trek back down the road, though it was going to feel three times longer.

"I just... don't get it." She groaned to herself as she hoisted up the bucket in her arms and trotted down the path. "Water.. shouldn't weigh this much. Why is it that water doesn't weigh much and a bucket doesn't weigh much, but put the two together and it feels like the weight of the Mana tree?"

After what felt like an eternity, the young woman made her way back past the other houses to a small and rather pathetic looking house on the far end. To say the house was dilapidated and in disrepair would have been extremely kind.

It was in ruins. The shingles off the top of the house were missing and the ones that were there were fragmented in at least one place. The door had several patches in it, but in it's state, it needed to be scraped for maybe something that wouldn't have been so holey. Like Swiss Cheese. The walls on the outside had been covered by some sort of clay like paint, which blocked out several messages that had been written on the surface. Though, overall while it did look rather pathetic, it was certain that someone did try to keep it in tact, albeit not doing a very good job. Still, the thought counted.

The woman looked at the house from the road, sighed a little and walked down the beaten path to the door. She shouldered it open while still carrying the water and set the water down next to the old stove that was in the far corner of the two room house. The first room of the ancient house was a mixture of a living, kitchen and dining room, with a simple mat floor that was freshly swept. The kitchen part of the room resided in the far corner, and was complete with a small stove, a cabinet for some mismatched dishes, a pantry for food and a bundle of wood that laid against the stove. A large basin sat next to the stove, and what looked like a rendition of a pump hooked onto the basin for easier water access. Picking up the bucket again, the woman walked to the basin and dumped the water into it. She then winced, stretched, felt her back and looked around at the room.

"Hm... what now?" She thought aloud, looking at the rest of the room. The dining room part, which consisted of a small table and two cushions, sat on the mat floor and as she glanced around the room, she noticed the cushions and frowned a little.

"That's first on the list after breakfast." She nodded to herself and turned back to the kitchen. Taking a piece of firewood, she placed it under the stove and struck a match, which set the log ablaze. After that was done, she looked at the food, which was pretty scarce, save some rice, and perhaps what looked like a jar of amangos. Pulling the jar out, she looked at it more closely and sighed.

"This will have to do." She murmured and opened it. Pouring part of the jar into the pan over the stove, she reached for a worn, but clean white apron and looked at the stone dial she had next to the stove.

"It's past eight. Time for him to get up." She nodded to herself again and walked over to the door that divided the two rooms apart. Sliding it open, she poked her head in and locked her eyes on what looked like a gigantic lump of blankets.

"Mithos, time to face the music and leave dreamland." She called in a singsong voice. The lump moved a little, grunted and flipped over.

Frowning, she walked over to the side of the lump and poked it in the side with her wooden spoon.

"Up. Come on, up with you." She said flatly, prodding him in the side with the spoon. The lump groaned and didn't move.

"Mithos, don't make me pull those blankets off." She warned.

"... meh." said the lump. Sighing, she grabbed a handful of the blankets and yanked them as hard as she could. The blankets all went flying off to reveal that the lump wasn't a lump at all, or rather, it was the lump of an eleven year old boy with long blonde hair, blue eyes and a grumpy expression.

"Up, you." She said again, bending over and poking him in the side of the head.

"... I'm up." he replied tiredly.

"If you were, we wouldn't be having this poking session." She countered. "Now up with you or it'll be the pad next."

The boy sighed, sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He blinked twice and rubbed his eyes with his white shirt sleeve before he looked at the window.

"Hey Martel, what time is it?" He asked groggily.

"About half past 8." Martel replied, now back to her original spot in the kitchen. Mithos jumped to his feet.

"Half past 8?!" He asked, now fully awake. "Why didn't you wake me? I was gonna do more things today to help you out." Martel laughed.

"I didn't wake you because you looked so peaceful and tired. Plus, you're not much of a morning person, Starshine." She smiled and went back to cooking. Mithos rubbed his head tiredly and groaned.

"... sorry." He said after a moment of silence. Martel glanced over at him while the amangos were cooking.

"What are you apologizing for?" She asked.

"I was supposed to help you today... I didn't mean to shirk." He replied sheepishly. Martel rolled her eyes and went back to cooking.

"You do help me a lot. Besides, you were up late trying to fix those shingles. You deserved to sleep late today." She replied. Mithos didn't look too convinced, but didn't want to push it with her. If she said it was okay, it was okay. Second guessing her only made her lecture.

"Alright." He nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help you now?" Martel looked around the kitchen and shook her head.

"No, I don't think there's anything to do..." She began, but paused when she saw Mithos' face and shoulders droop.

".. actually, now that I think about it, I do need some essence of Kirima for some cooking later today." She said, looking back at her cooking. "Would you go get some for me?" Mithos' face lit up and he beamed at her.

"You bet. I'll go get some right now!" He grinned and, after getting a couple coins and slipping on his plain brown shoes, dashed out the door.

Martel watched him go and looked down at the spice line she kept next to the stove. She then walked her fingers down the line and pulled the full bottle of essence of Kirima from it's spot in place. She glanced at it for a moment and then shook her head.

"Silly boy." She smiled and put it into the drawer, sliding it shut with a click.

....

Please review and comment.


	3. Bullies and Baubles

Disclaimer: I do not own either the story or the characters of ToS. I only wish I do.

Chapter Two: Bullies and Baubles

Mithos ran down the path of houses, a swing in his step as his feet hit the stone path. The sun shone on his face and reflected off his golden hair as he went. Looking up at the sky, the blue tinge that filled it, contrasted with the yellow beams of light and, to top it off, there was nary a cloud in sight. Mithos stopped his happy pace, took a big breath and exhaled, letting himself feel all of the day at once.

'This.. is a good day. I can just feel it.' He thought happily. Tearing his gaze away from the sky, he looked around at all of the elves going about their morning and watched them for a moment. Each elf had the same routine, day in and day out, and Mithos knew them all. Years of watching ingrained it so far into his mind that he could have acted them all out if prompted. Usually, the only one who liked his performances was Martel. For some reason of which he could never figure out, the elves didn't like it when they were portrayed by an eleven year old boy who had a tendency to exaggerate and comment on their behavior with reckless abandon.

'Go figure.' Mithos shrugged. Still, even though they didn't like it, he had his fun anyway. He usually had a lot of free time on his hands, so it would be spent either helping Martel or entertaining himself.

But for now, he was helping Martel, and that had to come first.

"Now.. what was it she needed...." He began to think. "... it was an essence... what was it again?"

As he stood in the middle of the road, pondering his next move, a ball came flying out of the air and smacked him in the side of the head. The force of the ball wobbled Mithos' head to the side and made his eyes water. Wincing, he looked at the ball and blinked.

"Kirima!" He exclaimed, putting his hand into his fist. "That's it." The ball, which was the color of a kirima, sat there in the dirt, not giving even the slightest hint that it had just been used to bean someone in the head. Mithos looked at it for a minute, and then bent down to pick it up.

The ball, made out of simple rubber and twine, felt rough and edgy, probably due to a lot of use Mithos figured.

"Hey, our ball!"

A group of elven children about Mithos' age ran up to him from the field across the way. Their faces and clothes were filthy, suggesting that they had been the ball lobbers. Mithos looked at them and smiled a little.

"Hey.. uh.. I found your ball." He offered it to them. A boy with orange hair and pointed ears then stepped forward and snatched the ball out of his hands.

"That's ours!" He yelled, stuck out his tongue and ran off with the other children. Mithos frowned, stuck out his own in response and felt the place where the ball had collided with his head.

"... ow.." He groaned as he walked. As he inwardly scowled.

'Yeah, not a 'Are you okay, Mithos? Want to play, Mithos? Thanks for using your head as a goalie, Mithos.'' He thought crankily to himself. 'No, I get 'That's ours!' What a thank you.' He frowned to himself as he walked down the path, and continued on that thought for a while. It wasn't like he wasn't used to it, he was treated like that all the time, but that didn't mean he liked it very much. Practically everyone, save the chief and a few of the adults, treated him like he was a freak of nature or just not normal. He wasn't really acknowledged by many of them, and the few that did weren't very kind either. Still, he shrugged it off and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his brown pants.

"Ah well, it's just as well they ran off." He sighed aloud. "They wouldn't have let me play anyway." They never did.

As he walked, a thought ran across his mind that he had forgotten due to his annoyance with the wanton ball brats.

"Oh, Essence of Kirimi." He said out of the blue. "Right, right.... which way again.." He panned his view of the market and walked over to a small path that he always used to get to the spice shop on the other side of town. It was his safety shortcut, because not many could get through there and since he was so thin, he could easily slip by. A great place to hide when the older boys wanted a punching bag and Mithos' name was top of the guest list.

He slipped past the crack and made his way down the path, but stopped halfway to stare in horror. Someone in the dead of night had blocked the path that led to the other side, knowing that he would use it and fall right into the trap.

Swallowing hard, Mithos took a step back and made to turn around.

"Going somewhere?" A voice echoed in the distance. Mithos whirled around to see three very big, very scary looking boys coming his way. He was all too familiar with them; they used him as a target for their fists on a regular basis.

"I... I..." He stammered as he watched them close in, trying to find a way out.

"'I.. I...'" The other boy mocked. "You're gonna need glasses after what I do to your 'I's." The other two laughed like a pair of hyenas and dove at him. Mithos ducked, so they slammed into each other and dove through the opening of the first's legs. He scrambled through and took off like a madman, running as fast as his scrawny legs could take him. He dashed through the thick crowd of elven shoppers on their morning errands and darted out of the crowd while the three large baboons of boys made their way through the irritated and bowled over elves. Mithos kept on running, not even looking back at them. All he knew was he wanted to get out of their hunting path and fast.

'Gotta.. gotta hide ..' He breathed, though he could feel the blood pulsing in his throat and face. His feet pounding against the walk, he dashed behind the gate of a large and ornate building and hid within the back lot's shrubberies that surrounded the house. Mithos pressed himself against the wooden planks and prayed to the Mana tree that they wouldn't look there.

He could hear them coming around the bend of the pathway and lurch to a halt.

"Hey, where'd the runt go?" The second called. The first snorted.

"He's gotta be around here somewhere." The first called. "Spread out and find that little weasel."

Mithos swallowed hard. He squished his eyes closed and prayed again for something to happen that would prevent his being stomped on. Huddling as close as he could to the fence, he waited for something to happen.

"Found him yet?" The second called.

"Nah, only an old box and someone's laundry."

"Damn. He's gotta be around here somewhere." The first boy lumbered around and rustled through the grass. Sweat dripped down Mithos' face and drenched his neck and shoulders. The footsteps on the other side of the fence grew louder and louder, each step echoing in his ears, which were pumped full of blood by adrenaline. Though, another set stomped after the first and grabbed the back of his collar.

"What?" The first asked.

"You don't want to go in there, man." The second shook his head.

"Why not? The runt could've gotten in there-"

"Dude, that's the vice chieftain's house. There's no way he'd be dumb enough to go in there. You know how much the VC hates him 'cause he's.... y'know."

"Yeah, and anyone caught on there is toast in the sink anyway. He hates people on his lot." The third piped in. "You touch his grass, that won't be the only thing that is." They all laughed and began to walk away.

"Just think. If the runt's in there, he'll be ten times worse off if we found him." The first laughed.

"Yeah, just think that he'll get his, even if we don't do it, oh and another thing-"

At that point, Mithos couldn't hear the rest. He was a: too far away from them to be in earshot, and b: terrified at what he'd done. In his attempt to get out of the frying pan, he had just landed in the fireplace of doom.

Mithos was sitting in the back garden of the vice chieftain of Heimdall, a place that Martel told him to avoid like the Ozette Cold. From what Martel had briefly mentioned, the Vice Chieftain did not like anyone who wasn't within the boundaries he deemed normal and traditional.

People like Martel and Mithos.

Mithos didn't really know why, but Martel always had told him to stay out of the vice chieftain's way because it was safer for everyone if he did. Since it wasn't smart to argue with Martel, Mithos had always done his best to avoid him completely.

But he had managed to get himself in the one place that he had tried so hard to avoid. So there he sat, right smack in the middle of the Vice Chieftain's garden, his clothes covered in dirt and muck and his face not looking much better. Groaning, Mithos got to his feet, looked around at himself and then up at the house.

The house itself was a plain, yet beautifully maintained structure with wooden siding and paneling up and down the walls. A well and fully intact roof graced the top of the house, which made Mithos burn with envy. Each of the sliding doors were thick and new, with the smell of velum and wood permeating from each room it lined. The house, or palace in Mithos' eyes, sat on an elevated wooden frame and had long wooden pathways that ran around the outside rooms like a sidewalk, but for a private building. It really did look fit for a chieftain, Mithos thought as he shifted his eyes from the house to the garden around him.

The garden that surrounded the house was decorated by an array of different furniture and ornaments of green, blue and red, the color of the fishes in the pond. Wooden, traditional benches were strewn systematically around the garden, and looked more for show than actually sitting on them. Mithos frowned as he walked over to the furniture and examined them more closely.

'What's the point of having a bench if you don't sit on it?' He thought to himself as he felt the bench's surface with his hand. It was smooth and glossy to the touch, completely different from the wood that was used to fix and do anything to his house. In the back of his mind, his home was becoming more and more sad by the minute.

A glint in the sun in the corner of his eye caught Mithos' attention, which made him turn his head to see the source. Glass baubles hung from the trees, each of flowing colors of blue, green, red and yellow, all blended together in a swirl of brilliant color. Mithos had never seen something so enchanting before. He paused at their color and glanced back at the main gate. Should he run or should he gaze at the jeweled glass?

".. maybe just a quick look.." He breathed and walked over to the glass droplets that were suspended from the tree's limbs. He watched them dance in the sun and be swept to and fro by the wind like dancers in a tango of swirling awe. He couldn't tear his eyes away. It was too pretty to be ignored.

He couldn't help himself. Stretching an arm out, he gently grazed the bauble with his hand and felt cool, smooth glass meet his fingers. He ran his hand down it and gently let the bauble swing as he let go.

However, it swung a tad too much and fell off the tree, landing in the grass with a light 'thump'. Mithos' eyes widened in terror and he scooped it up as fast as he could, fearing that he had managed to mangle it. Thankfully, the glass ornament was unharmed, nor was the ribbon that held it aloft. He let it swing from his fingers for a moment, watched the sun glisten from it's surface one more time and reached up to hang it back on the branch.

As he began attempting to attach it, Mithos felt a cold chill up his spine, one that was his instincts telling him to run for the hills, or at least a place where he would be safe. Since his instincts rarely failed him, Mithos froze and listened hard for anything that would give him a clue what was coming his way.

"I'm sure you'll like the path around here. It's very traditional in the style of the elves."

"I see."

Mithos' heart jumped into his throat, did a backflip and landed somewhere near his kneecap. Two people were coming, one he knew was the Vice Chieftain, and if he found out Mithos had been there...

Mithos didn't want to even begin to imagine what would happen. All he wanted to do was find a place to avoid being noticed and fast. His eyes flashed all around the area, just looking for a place, any place to hide. The tree wouldn't work, that was the source of his problem, the bushes were too obvious. His mind was racing, as was his pulse, but he paused when he looked over the wooden walkway that lined the outside of the house. Since the house was on an elevated structure, underneath the house that peeked out from the edge was a small crawl space.

A small, Mithos-sized crawl space.

Now hearing footsteps, Mithos looked over his shoulder in terror, and dove for the small alcove. His face and torso hit the dirt underneath and he quickly scurried further into the crawl space so his legs and feet were completely hidden as well. In the tiny space, Mithos managed to turn himself around so he could see out of the space, but more importantly, he could see them while they couldn't see him. Always a bonus for people hiding out, he thought.

Still, as he laid there, torso pressed into the dirt, he couldn't help but think that he'd been missing something. Looking over in his hand, he noticed that the glass decoration was still clutched in his fingers and glinted, even though the sun barely reached the pair of boy and bauble. Mithos groaned.

'Maybe this day isn't going to be so good after all.' He sighed to himself.

......

Please review and comment!


	4. The Round Eared Gentleman

Disclaimer- Last I checked, I don't own ToS, though I deeply wish it were otherwise.

Also, to those who reviewed, thank you very much. I really appreciate it.

Chapter Three: The Round-Eared Gentleman

As he laid there in the dusty crawl space, Mithos' heart continued to do gymnastics in his throat. The pulse of his blood racing up and down his limbs and his neck beat like a timpani drum set. Each passing moment felt like his lungs and heart were about to explode.

Still, he laid completely still against the ground, and didn't move a muscle for fear of them noticing his presence.

The steps grew louder and crunched the grass as the men drew near. Mithos' eye grew wide and he scooted forward just enough to get a glimpse of what was happening above.

"I believe this is the first place that the Chieftain wanted me to direct you." The first figure said as he stepped into the garden and consequently, into Mithos' view. He was a stout, portly man with balding blue hair that was tied back into a skimpy ponytail and the roundest face that he'd seen in a long time. He wore an outfit with long flowing sleeves and a large band around the middle, which attempted to hide the fact he had a midsection that resembled an over-inflated beach ball. His robe was royal blue from his shoulders to his feet and tiny gold shoes that were three sizes too small occupied themselves on his box like feet. A round hat latched itself onto his head and clung to it by a string that wrapped around his double chins. The poor piece of string looked very overworked, since the hat would have sprung from his head if he hadn't had it there holding on for all it was worth. His long pointed ears stuck out like fan blades and held the strings at bay some more. Emerald and Sapphire gems glistened in his ears and made the rest of him look practically dull in color.

Around his shoulder was a sash of gold and purple, and had a circle with two slashes in it embroidered in the middle. That symbol was enough to indicate to Mithos that the large man with the rotund stomach was the Vice Chieftain, and quite a force to be reckoned with. Mithos made a mental note to avoid him in the future at all costs.

"I see." Another, yet deeper voice replied. Mithos' eyes shifted towards the source of the voice, but didn't see anyone. Frowning, he moved up a little more towards the opening and peered out.

Still no one.

Just at that moment, another man walked onto the garden. One Mithos had never seen before. But when he locked eyes on him, he couldn't look away.

The man stood at at least six feet tall, probably taller, and unlike the Vice Chieftain, he was very lean and strong looking. Not willowy and whispy like the other elves at all, but solid, lean and built to last. He appeared to be in his mid to late twenties, with broad shoulders and a sword attached to his belt. The hilt of the sword was of a shiny metal, probably iron inlaid with silver, and wrapped in an indigo dyed leather up to the gem that shone in the sunlight. The sheathe of the sword was simple brown leather, and an iron tip at the very end of the constructed sword case.

He wore a simple traveling outfit, one of plain brown pants, a simple leather belt, brown leather boots, a white shirt with a high collar, laced with white cord in an 'X' pattern, and a brown leather traveling cape. On his hip on the opposite side of the sword was a pack of brown leather with a tricky looking braided pattern on the front. It wasn't anything too fancy or ornate, especially not compared to the gaudy Vice Chieftain standing adjacent from him.

However, that wasn't what caught Mithos' eye and refused to give it back.

The man had the most peculiar hair that Mithos' had ever seen. It was deep auburn and for some reason that Mithos couldn't figure out, it was sticking up at different angles all on it's own.

'... how does it do that?' He asked himself as he continued to stare. All he could see of the man was his back, but that was enough to tell him that he was much more different from anyone he'd ever seen before.

"And why was this the first thing he wanted me to see?" The strange man asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The Vice Chieftain looked back at him.

"It was for you to see that even now, we elves still follow the roots of tradition to a perfect T." He replied, his voice thick with saccharine.

"... Ah." The second man with the red hair folded his arms and looked at the hanging ornaments on the trees. He then looked back at the Vice Chieftain and Mithos craned his neck to get a closer look.

His hair, though it still stuck up at uneven places, draped itself over part of his face and added to the demeanor that he displayed to the Vice Chieftain. Cool and aloof, not to mention a tad bored.

Even though it covered half of his face, it was pretty easy to tell that he was a very good looking man. In contrast with his alabaster skin, his mahogany eyes slowly scanned the compound and took in everything, as if he was planning on drawing a picture for later use.

Though, it was his ears that made Mithos look long and hard. Unlike most of the people that Mithos had ever seen, his ears were not long and pointed like the rest of the elves. They were round instead, and only the edge showed through his hair. Mithos unconsciously moved his hand to his own set of ears and felt the soft, round edges with his fingers.

'...they're just like mine.' He thought, still gazing at the man. At that point, the man had shifted his eyes back to the baubles hanging from the willow tree.

"Quite.. ornate, aren't they?" The man with rounded ears commented. The Vice Chieftain nodded.

"Oh yes, they're the pride and joy of my compound."

Mithos' lungs sank into his stomach and turned into a pair of rocks. He looked over at the bauble in his hand and prayed that the Vice Chieftain didn't notice that one of his 'pride and joy' was missing.

Because if he did, he'd 'pride and joy' Mithos all over the sidewalk.

The man with rounded ears gently reached for one of the baubles and felt it. The Vice Chieftain paled.

"Uh.. please be careful with that, it's very delicate and-" He paused when he noticed the expression that adorned the round-eared man's face. He gazed at the Vice Chieftain with a rather dead expression and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I am well aware they are delicate. There is no need to fret." He replied, letting the bauble swing back and out of his grip. "I was taking a note for my report."

"Oh.. oh, I see. Yes, of course." The Vice Chieftain backpedaled as fast as he could, while the round eared man continued to employ the raised eyebrow. Mithos stared. He'd never seen anyone stop any village official in his tracks like that before. It was awe inspiring.

'... wow...' He mouthed. The Vice Chieftain, now convinced he'd dodged a thrown knife, looked at the tree.

"Yes, these ornaments were created by the great spirit Origin as a gift for the eons we've served him in his forest." He began to ramble on about the beauty of the ornaments and how important they had been in ages past.

Though, if he'd actually been looking at the round eared man, he would have noticed that he wasn't paying much attention. In fact, he wasn't paying any attention at all. He had wandered over to inspect the benches instead. Mithos snorted in amusement, but covered his mouth in horror.

The round eared man paused for a moment and then looked in the direction that the snort had come from. His gaze shifted downward towards Mithos, who looked back at him with wide eyes filled with fear.

Mithos swallowed hard and shut his eyes as tightly as he could, scurrying back into the darkness of the crawl space. Raising an eyebrow at the tip of yellow hair that stuck ever so slightly into view, the round eared man turned around with one fluid movement and looked back at the Vice Chieftain as he ranted about the lurid glass ornaments.

"-thousands of years to carefully arrange all of them in the pattern that Origin wished...." The Vice Chieftain paused. The round eared man looked forward at the baubles and then at the portly man.

"Is there something amiss?" He inquired, though his tone indicated there was no way he could have cared less.

".. yes.. one of the ornaments is missing." The Vice Chieftain replied slowly as he looked around the trunk of the willow tree. "I could have sworn it was here this morning."

The redhaired man raised an eyebrow yet again, and his eyes flashed briefly at Mithos' location and back at the Vice Chieftain.

"Perhaps it was taken down to be polished." He suggested coolly. The Vice Chieftain thought for a moment and then nodded.

"Yes.. yes that's probably it. They did need to be polished." He agreed. "It's been quite a while since they had been. Almost half a day."

Eyebrow still elevated at the thought of polishing the ornaments that often, the rounded eared man nodded, his arms folded against his chest.

"I see." He replied. The Vice chieftain glanced at him and then back at the tree.

"You do say 'I see' quite a bit, don't you?" He commented. The round eared gentleman smirked a little, but didn't reply.

"... I see quite a lot, because I look." He replied cryptically. Silence filled the air and all Mithos could hear was the frantic beating of his brain as it throbbed in his head.

"Anyway, what is next on your list?" The younger man asked. The Vice Chieftain started and looked at him.

"Ah, ah yes, sir. This way." He beckoned for him to follow and left the garden.

The round eared man lingered for a moment and looked back over at where Mithos was hidden. Mithos looked back at him and they locked eyes for a moment. They stayed like that for a minute or two, the round eared man watching Mithos and Mithos too scared to move.

"Sir, are you coming?" The Vice Chieftain called over the way. The round eared man nodded to the direction once and, after taking one more look at Mithos, left the garden to follow the Vice Chieftain down the street.

Once he was sure that no one was around and the only sounds coming from the garden were the rustle of the willow trees, Mithos wriggled out from under the walkway and looked down at himself.

He didn't look too great when he went in, but he looked like a royal mess when he came out. His clothes were covered in dirt, dust and debris, and his face and hair had been the host to several cobwebs. He wiped his face with his already dirty sleeve and looked at the dusty bauble in his hand. It was no longer as shiny and clean like it had when it was hung from the tree. Now it just looked like a glass ball someone had tossed into a fresh puddle.

After he wiped that down too, Mithos wandered quietly over to the willow tree and placed the bauble next to it. He then skirted out of the compound and down the street. A bit of the way down the road, he saw both the Vice Chieftain and the round eared man walk down the street, the Vice Chieftain parading and the round eared man meandering behind a few paces.

Dashing behind a plank of wood, Mithos continued to watch them as they went by. He was by no means the only one to watch the redheaded man as he walked through the cobblestone path. Elves of every age stopped their routines and stared as he went by.

"... what're one of them doing here?" An older man asked his wife as she bought some fruit.

"I'm not sure. I think it's part of a report or something. Still, nothing we should concern ourselves with." She tugged on his sleeve. "Now come on. I have more shopping to do." They dispersed and Mithos, who'd been listening in, frowned.

"One of them'?' He asked himself. 'What's that supposed to mean?' He continued to stare as long as he could from that spot, until they'd moved out of view.

Mithos frowned. He couldn't stand it. He wanted to know more. He had to know more. Skirting from alcove to alcove, he followed after them as the day went by. It continued roughly the same as before. The Vice Chieftain would brag about this and that, and the round eared man would barely listen as he took in everything else. Occasionally he would comment with a dead affect in his voice and take the Vice Chieftain by surprise. Every time he did, Mithos would grin and keep himself from laughing at the flustered Vice Chieftain.

After the sun began it's descent, Mithos noticed them turn the bend around the side of the street. A crowd had formed around the end of the street and due to the thickness of Elven bodies in the crowd, Mithos couldn't tell if they had turned left or right in all the confusion.

He sighed to himself and then gazed up at the yellowing sky. He paused for a moment and then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

".. Oh No! Martel's essence of Kirima!" He gasped and, turning on his heels, dashed towards the spice store.

.......

After a mad sprint to the spice shop, Mithos emerged with the Essence of Kirima latched in his fingers. He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped down from the stairs and put it in his pocket.

Once he stepped onto the road, he turned left and began to head for home. As he did, thoughts raced through his mind.

'Who was that man? Why didn't he tell the Vice Chieftain I was under there?' He asked himself as he stared into the stone path. 'I don't get it. No one's ever actually helped me with that before and-'

His thoughts were cut off when he walked into something solid and hard. Losing his balance, Mithos fell backward and landed in the dirt.

"Ugh.. ow.." He groaned, feeling his head and looked up to see what he'd run into.

He paled.

He hadn't run into something. He'd run into someone.

Namely, the round eared man from before.

Mithos swallowed hard and felt his heart do another backflip in his throat. Feeling the impact, the round eared man looked over his shoulder at the boy and raised an eyebrow.

"I.. uh... I'm sorry.. I didn't watch where I was-" Mithos began, but a roar of indignation sounded from the walk, which made both Mithos' and the round eared man's heads turn. The Vice Chieftain stalked towards Mithos, and Mithos felt his legs turn to stone, which prevented him from fleeing in terror.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He demanded. Mithos paused and looked at himself.

"... sitting in the dirt?" He asked innocently. The Vice Chief snorted in outrage and hoisted Mithos up by the collar of his shirt so he was suspended in the air.

"You just ran into our esteemed guest with your dirty self!" He spat. The round eared man rolled his eyes at the term 'esteemed guest'. Mithos shook.

"I.. I didn't mean to. It was an accident-"

"You're the accident, you dirty, little half-elf!" He yelled and tossed Mithos back to the ground. Mithos landed in the dirt with a thud and heard his tailbone squeal in pain. The Vice Chieftain then brought up a foot to stomp on him, and Mithos covered his face in fright.

"You shouldn't be out where decent people can see you, you worthless-"

"That's enough."

Both the Vice Chieftain and Mithos paused. Mithos looked out from underneath his protective stance and stared. The round eared man had a hand on the Vice Chieftain's shoulder and an expression of ice that would have frozen a volcano.

"He has done nothing of objection. Like he said, it was an accident and that is all." He replied, his voice like ice, curt and cold. "There is no need to react so vehemently over something so little."

"But he's-" The Vice Chieftain began, but a glare from the round eared man silenced him.

"That is all." The round eared man repeated curtly. The Vice Chieftain scowled.

".. Fine. You got off this time, rat, but don't think you'll be so lucky next time." He spat and stalked off towards his compound. The round eared man watched him go, gave a disapproving look, and offered Mithos a hand up.

Mithos watched the man for a moment and then gingerly took it. The man then hoisted him up.

"Are you unharmed?" He inquired. Mithos looked down at himself and nodded.

"Yeah, I-"

"Good. You should go home." The man replied curtly. "It isn't safe out here for children. Especially not half elves."

Mithos was about to protest, but paused.

"... half elves?" He asked after a moment. The round eared man looked back at him and nodded.

"Yes. You should go home." The round eared man repeated and then, which a swish of his cape, walked off into the night.

Mithos watched him go and started back home, his head reeling with questions.

"... half elves... what's that?" He asked himself. "But... who was that guy.. and why'd he help me?" He looked back up at the now blackened sky and let out a breath.

'... well.. whoever he was... Martel would've said he's.. a gentleman.' He murmured. 'A round eared gentleman.'

....

Woo, chapter three's done. Very long.. my hands... ow..

Anyway, please review and comment!


	5. Half Elves in a Whole World

Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I do not own ToS or the characters. Which makes me sad.

Chapter Four: Half Elves in a Whole World

By the time Mithos got back home, the road was pitch black and the crowds that had once filled the streets had dispersed, leaving an empty carcass of the road behind. Mithos looked back at the street, wiped his nose with his sleeve and then trotted up the dilapidated path to his makeshift home.

"Martel?" He called as he pushed open the door. "Sorry I'm late, I-"

A blur of green hair rushed him at the door and knocked the wind out of him. Martel hoisted him off his feet and hugged him so hard he felt his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

"Mithos, what happened? I was so worried about you. Where were you?" Martel asked as she let go of him a little. "And you're filthy to the bone... is that blood?" She pointed to his forehead. Mithos paused and felt his forehead, and then took his hand away. Crimson liquid painted the pads of his fingers, though it didn't look very thick.

"Huh.. would ya look at that.." He mused, more curious that how it happened than the fact that he was bleeding from his head. Martel sighed, took a wash cloth and began to wipe his face.

"Now where were you that took all day and practically made my hair turn grey?" She asked as she dabbed at his cheek.

"Well...." Mithos murmured.

.....

"What do you mean 'you landed in the middle of the Vice Chieftain's house?!'" Martel demanded as she continued to wipe his face.

"That's what happened. I didn't mean to, but I was kinda trying to not get used as a punching bag. I didn't know where I was running, only that I was running fast and fast was good." Mithos replied as he sat on the floor while she rubbed the dirt from his face. Martel let out a sigh of exasperation and continued to try to remove the stubborn dirt over his eyebrow.

"I told you to avoid that man at all costs."

"I did, I did, I swear!" Mithos protested. "I just was looking at some of those pretty ornaments and he came around the bend, so I dove underneath the crawl space. I avoided him. 'Sides, he couldn't have gotten me under there. He's too large to reach." Martel snorted and shook her head.

"I'm still not convinced. Did he see you?" She asked as she then went to his neck with the cloth. Mithos shook his head and looked away.

"No.. he didn't see me." He replied. Martel paused and looked at Mithos with suspicion.

"... who did?" She asked. Mithos groaned. Martel had a way of just knowing when he was trying to hide something. 'Sister Sense' he called it. And it was in full swing.

"... the guy he was with did." He said quietly. Martel frowned and wiped off the dirt on his shoulder.

"And what happened when he told the Vice Chieftain?" She inquired, her voice tight. Mithos thought for a moment and then smiled.

"Nothing happened." He replied cheerily. Martel stared at him.

"....nothing?" She repeated. "Why is that?" Mithos' legs swung back and forth on the stool.

"He didn't tell him I was there. He just kept on going, didn't say anything at all." He grinned. "Dunno why, but he was helping me out."

Martel sat back on her heels and watched Mithos carefully. Mithos didn't seem to care much. He was too busy thinking about the round eared man who'd helped him so much in one day.

"What was he like?" She asked as she resumed cleaning her brother's face. Mithos lit up, since he'd been hoping she'd ask.

"He was amazing. Like no one I've ever seen before. He had red hair that stuck up all over the place, yet part of it covered his face and he was really, really tall." He exclaimed happily. "He was taller than anyone I've seen before, and he had broad shoulders, but I've never seen an elf with broad shoulders before and the Vice Chieftain was treating him with a ton of respect. I don't know why, but it was so cool when he walked around. It was like he had better things to do than talk with the Vice Chieftain and he knocked him down a peg or two with just a look or a stray comment, it was so neat and he had a sword, a SWORD and it was really pretty and-"

He continued on that line of adoration and praise for the strange man he'd seen, and Martel's eyebrows lifted higher and higher as he went on.

"-And, and he also had these eyes that could stop the Vice Chieftain in his tracks and he did a lot of times and it was really funny, but the best part was that he had round ears. Just. Like. Me." Mithos inhaled as he'd been turning a shade of blue because he'd been talking for so long. Martel paused and held up a hand to stop him.

"Hold on Mithos. What do you mean, 'just like you'?" She asked. Mithos pulled on his ears to show her.

"They weren't pointy or long or anything. They were rounder and smaller, like mine." He gestured to his ears. "Like yours too, Sis."

Martel grew silent and closed her eyes. She frowned and thought for a moment.

"And.. he was taller?"

"Yeah. And he had broader shoulders and didn't look like a twig like the rest of the elves. From the way he walked, it was pretty easy to tell he could snap one of the forest elves in half by looking at them." Mithos nodded. "What kinda elf is he?"

Martel shook her head.

"He's not an elf." She replied. "He can't be, after what you've said." Mithos paused and his legs stopped swinging.

"He's not? Then what is he?" He asked. Martel brushed her hair out of her face.

"Most likely, he was a human." She replied after a minute of deliberation. Mithos wiped his face with his dirty sleeve.

"A human? But don't those live outside?" He asked curiously. "You said they did." Martel nodded as she started to wipe his once again filthy face.

"Yes they do. However, if he was being treated with a great amount of respect, then chances are he was a very important human. Not just a simple bandit or thief." Mithos ran a hand through his hair and pulled a cobweb from it.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that. But what's he doing here?" He asked her. Martel sighed.

"I'm not sure, Mithos. Perhaps the outside world is growing tenser due to conflict." She replied and got up for another cloth. Mithos resumed swinging his legs back and forth while he sat and beamed at Martel.

"Well, I dunno why he was there, but it sure was a good thing that he was. He saved me from the Vice Chieftain and all and that was really great of hi-" He stopped when he saw Martel had locked eyes with him from over her shoulder.

"What was that?" She asked curtly. Mithos rubbed a scuffed part of his sleeve.

"Well, I, uh... I accidentally ran into the human when I was trying to get home. The Vice Chieftain had a fit and was about to stomp on me, but the human stopped him. Told him there wasn't any point to getting mad."

"The amazing part was the Vice Chieftain listened to him. Just stomped off instead. Then he helped me up and told me to go home."

Martel listened completely and closed her eyes. A smile appeared on her face and she looked pensive, yet happy.

"... a human did that?" She asked, her eyes growing warm. "... that's good to hear." Mithos nodded happily. She then back over to Mithos and started to clean his face again.

"It was even better to have it happen. 'Cause I didn't get used as a doormat." He beamed. Martel then frowned a little and started to rub at some dirt Mithos had on his cheek.

"I'm glad he did, because if that oversized trout of a Vice Chieftain were to have hurt you, I would have been so furious that I don't know what I would-" She fumed as she rubbed harder. Mithos winced as her wiping became more vigorous because she was so incensed at the thought of Mithos getting hurt.

"Sis... you're taking my cheek off..."

"Oh... sorry." Martel took away the wash cloth to reveal that Mithos' cheek was now very rosy. She sat back on her heels and looked him over. He was still rather dirt ridden, but it wasn't as bad as before.

"But still. I was worried about you and I'm happy that you're alright." She then got up and took some of the leftover amangos and rice that Mithos hadn't gotten a chance to eat that morning. She set them in front of Mithos and watched as his eyes and his stomach widened.

Mithos had been so busy that day, he'd forgotten how hungry he had been. He dove on the food and within minutes, had eaten the whole thing from top to bottom.

"Oof... thank you Martel." He beamed at her. "I needed that." Martel smiled and patted his head.

"I know you did." She replied warmly and began to straighten up her cushion on the floor. Now that Mithos was full and relatively warm, he began to think and then something struck a chord on the harp of his mind.

"Hey Martel, can I ask you something?" He asked her. She looked over at him and brushed her green hair out of her face.

"Hm? What is it?" She asked in reply.

"What's a 'half elf'?" He asked.

Martel paused and her complexion paled.

"... where did you hear that?" She asked. Mithos looked out the window.

"The Vice Chieftain said I was a half elf. So did the human... what's a half elf?" He glanced back at her.

Martel was uncharacteristically stony faced. She usually would smile and just brush it off, but it was different.

She looked sad. Sad that she asked to say. Sad that she had to tell him.

"Mithos... a half elf is a combination between an elf and a human." She said after what seemed like an eternity. Mithos, on the other hand, brightened.

"You mean a human like the one that I met? Wow... he's so amazing-" He stared out the window again.

"Mithos... let me finish." Martel replied. "A half elf isn't human, nor is elven. A half elf is in between. And they... they don't really mesh completely with one side or the other."

Mithos looked back at her.

"What do you mean?" He asked. Martel looked pained.

"I mean.. there's a lot of discord and discrimination between elves and humans and half elves. To the elves, half elves don't fit in with their view of tradition and how the world should be. And they don't like it too much when other people come around that may jeopardize that."

"Is... is that why the other kids wouldn't play with me? Because I'm a half elf?" He asked, his eyes growing sad.

".. I believe so. They can sense that you are different. There's nothing wrong with you, but you're different." Martel said sadly. "And they don't like different."

Mithos' eyes grew fierce with indignation.

"And.. is that why they wouldn't let me go to school? Or even talk to me? Is that why we don't get treated nicely by many people? Because of that?"

"Yes." Martel nodded.

"But... but that's not fair! I didn't pick it, it just kinda... is. That shouldn't matter!" Mithos jumped to his feet.

"Everyone should get treated the same! It shouldn't have to matter what they are as long as they're good people." Mithos exclaimed. "Everyone should get the same chance!"

Martel smiled at him and his shining idealism, but shook her head, her mint hair falling about her shoulders.

"I know Mithos. I've been trying to tell them for years, but nothing seems to get through to them. The most I could do was persuade the Chieftain to forbid anyone from telling you the truth. I didn't want you to find out the same way I did." Martel let out a sigh.

"But unfortunately it happened that way anyway. I'm sorry I didn't tell you until now."

Mithos sat down next to his older sister and hugged her gently.

"It's okay. You were just trying to protect me. I got it." He murmured and then sat up to face her.

"And.. and what about the humans? The human today I met helped me out of that scary situation. What about them? Do they like half elves?"

Martel closed her eyes and her shoulders grew heavy.

"Mithos... the humans are worse. The human that you encountered was a rarity. Discrimination against half elves is intense here in Tethe'alla and even though I'm not entirely sure about how bad it is in Sylvarant, I do know that there is some there as well. Whether or not it's as bad as it is in Tethe'alla, I don't know."

Mithos' shoulders drooped.

"... oh." He said quietly. "But... that human saved me. He saved me, even though he heard that I was a half elf." Martel smiled and rubbed Mithos' shoulder.

"That's because he was a good person. Not all humans hate half elves, nor do all elves. There can always be a straw of hay in a needlestack."

Mithos paused and looked at Martel.

"Um... don't you mean a needle in a haystack?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Martel thought about it and laughed.

"I suppose I do, though I think my example's more appropriate." She replied, ruffling his hair. Mithos laughed and leaned against her.

"Hey... you're a half elf too, right?" He asked.

"Yes, yes I am." She nodded quietly.

"And I like you and you like me... so as long as we've got each other.. we'll be okay." He smiled. Martel beamed at him and hugged him.

"That's right." She smiled. "But just because we've got each other doesn't mean I want you to shut others out, okay?"

"... okay." the small half elf boy nodded. Martel smiled and patted Mithos' head.

"But don't worry. As long as the Chieftain is around, we'll be okay. He'll make sure we've got a place to go."

"Yeah.." Mithos closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep. Martel, noticing his light snoring, patted his head and just sat, letting him wander through dreamland.

.......

A loud sound like an explosion rang through the peaceful town during the wee hours of the morning. Mithos jolted awake and looked around to see what was going on.

".. what was that?" He asked himself and looked up at Martel, who was still sleeping.

"Martel.. Martel, wake up!" He moved her shoulder to get her to return to the world of the conscious.

".. huh?" Martel asked, rubbing her face with her sleeve. "What's wrong, Mithos?"

"I heard something. Something that sounded like it came from the other side of the village." He said, his eyes fixated on the window. Martel got up, walked to the window and froze.

"... Mithos, grab your things." She told him. Mithos got up and looked at her.

".. why, what's going on?" He asked. Martel shook her head, though she didn't tear her eyes away from the window.

"Trust me on this. Just get them." She told him. Mithos, not wanting to argue with Martel, nodded and quickly gathered up his belongings. It didn't take him very long, since all that he owned was a small knife his father had left him, a set of 3 bracelets woven out of purple cord that his mother had made him when he was all but three and a simple, leather pack Martel had given him for his birthday a few years ago. When he emerged from his tiny corner, he saw that Martel had packed practically everything into a pack she had on the floor. The pack wasn't very impressive, but it was more impressive that she had managed to pack everything they owned into the tiny bag that was the size of Mithos' head. How she had stuffed all of the blankets and pad in there he didn't know and wasn't about to guess.

Once she had finished, Martel looked at Mithos and nodded at him to go to the door. Mithos did and held the door open for Martel as she followed him out. She patted his head, attached the pack to her hip via a belt and looked out onto the now crowded street.

"... what's going on here?" Mithos asked as all of the elves flocked to the main center in the middle of the square. Martel watched them all and let out a breath.

"I don't know Mithos, but I do know that this can't be good." She said in a hushed voice. "Let's go." Mithos nodded and followed her down the packed street of elves, who were all whispering to each other in hushed tones. He couldn't make it out, but from the sound of them all, it couldn't be good.

When Martel finally stopped, she let out a gasp and didn't move an inch. Mithos peeked out from around her torso to look at what she saw and his eyes widened in shock. It was at that point that he realized what had made the large explosion sound that shook the tiny village of Heimdall awake.

A blazing fire roared around the edges that had once been the village Chieftain's house and encased it in a sea of red and orange flame. No one in the crowd could get near it.

"The... the chieftain!" Mithos exclaimed and made to move forward in an attempt to get to the house. However, Martel's grip on his shirt made him stop and she shook her head.

"Mithos, stop. Stay down." She told him urgently.

"But-"

"Mithos." Martel said sharply. Mithos was taken aback. Martel was rarely sharp and when she was, it was very serious. He then nodded and looked on at the blazing fire.

"How.. how could this happen? The elder might have been strange but... why?" Mithos breathed in horror as the flames began to subside due to elven magic by the fire brigade. Martel shook her head.

"I don't.. know why, Mithos." She said quietly. "I don't know." Both Mithos and Martel watched as the flames died down and after awhile, the fire was quenched completely. In it's wake, the blaze had turned the elder's house into a smoldered husk of what was once a great building.

"Elves of Heimdall!" A voice suddenly called from the top of the pedestal in the middle of the square. All of the heads in the crowd swiveled to face the squatty and still rotund Vice Chieftain, who had managed to get his pudgy self onto the podium without falling off.

"How'd he get on there?" Mithos asked as he looked. "Looks like he's bigger than the podium is."

"The elder has been felled by a group of renegade outsiders whose intent was to attack and disrupt the people of this village!" He exclaimed as he stood there like a sausage on a stick. "And as the new Chieftain, I will not allow it! Tradition will stand!"

A roar of applause sounded through the crowd. Mithos looked at Martel and then back at the Vice Chieftain.

"And as Chieftain, I have several new decrees! First, the village of Heimdall must be one of elves, the first inhabitants and the sole inhabitants. Anyone else must be purged for the good of the order of elven life!"

More applause sounded through the crowd. Martel grew pale and Mithos swallowed hard.

"And as such, I have found an enterprising company who will be more than happy to accommodate our wishes." The Vice Chieftain pointed to the large stone doors that closed the village off from the outside world and as he did, they lurched open. Once fully open, a large group of seedy looking men marched into the village. The elves gasped and murmured amongst themselves, but the men didn't seem to care.

"These lovely men have graciously agreed to rid us of our rat problem once and for all." The Vice Chieftain gleefully added. "Now, shall we find the pair of them? There are only two here."

"Spread out and find 'em. Leave no stone unturned." The leader of the men, a rough and ragged man with a scar over his nose called to the rest of them. They grunted and raked their way through the crowd. Martel's eyes grew large.

"... half elf traders..." She breathed in horror. Mithos blinked.

"What now?" He asked. Martel looked at him.

"Half elf traders. They find half elves and sell them into force work. Slavery." She said, her voice tight. Mithos gaped at her and then looked ahead, a bit afraid to ask what 'slavery' was. He didn't think he wanted to know that badly. As the men made their way past the elves, one scruffy looking bald man pointed a weird looking box at Martel and it beeped. He then snatched Martel's arm and hoisted her into the air.

"We've got a live one!" He called and the elves around the pair of half elves dispersed, leaving them completely exposed and vulnerable.

"Hey, leave my sister alone!" Mithos yelled and tried to pull her from his grasp. However, two other men tackled the irate boy and subdued him before he could do anything very helpful. After they did, he looked like a calf who'd been lasso'd several times over with his face mushed in the ground.

"Ah, how fitting. Bugs in the dirt." The Vice Chieftain commented loftily as Mithos struggled with the ropes that bound his arms together.

"You... you won't get away with this." He snarled, fighting his hardest against the binding. The Vice Chieftain laughed and shook his head.

"In case you haven't noticed, I already am." He replied cheerily. Martel sat on the ground too, her hands tied behind her back, and looked thoroughly humiliated. Seeing his sister so embarrassed only fueled Mithos' anger and he glared daggers of seething hatred at the horrid man in front of him. He then glanced around for any sign of the round eared gentleman who had aided him before.

"Oh, and if you're looking for that traveler to come save you, tough luck." The Vice Chieftain added, looking at his new sash, one that was silver and bronze. "He left earlier this evening. I told you you wouldn't be so lucky next time."

"That all of 'em?" The head trader called. The Vice Chieftain nodded.

"Yes. Now, you've done your job and have been well paid. Just get them out of here." He gestured for the gate. The head trader shrugged and made a circle motion in the air for the rest of them to pack it up and move it out. Yanking Mithos to a standing position, one of the men looped some rope around his neck and tied it so he would follow behind them like a pack animal. Martel was treated about the same way, except she was hitched to the rope behind Mithos. The traders then attached the rope to a mule and cart and led the mule out into the cobblestone path. Since the cart was attached to the Mule and the rope was attached the cart and Mithos was attached to the rope, a great force pulled on his neck and forced him to follow. Head down in shame, he walked solemnly after the cart, the last of his pride and dignity flushed away.

"Good riddance to foul halfbreeds." The Vice Chieftain nodded and the crowd watched as they were paraded down the town street and out into the main courtyard. The trading company marched down the road that stretched out and into the Ymir Forest, a place that Mithos had never gone, but had only heard about. Though, from what he could see, he was going to get a good rendering of it first hand very shortly. The stone gates of Heimdall lurched open to let the traders and their quarry through, which suited the men all the better. They all lumbered through the gates and Mithos turned around to see the village that was his home for so long shut the gate and seal him out completely.

As the traders led them onto the dirt path into the Ymir Forest, Mithos looked over his shoulder at Martel.

"Hey Martel?"

"Yes Mithos?"

"... can we worry now?"

".. yes, now would be a very good time."

....

Okay.. chapter four is now complete.. hands need to rest now. My fingers went on strike and they demand dental...

Mithos: I didn't know fingers had teeth.

Me: ... they do now.

Please review and comment!


	6. Bandits and Bandages

Disclaimer: Still don't own ToS, try as I might. Also a big thank you for all who reviewed!

Chapter Five: Bandits and Bandages

As the night passed by, Mithos's legs grew heavier as he moved, as if someone had strapped boulders to each calf. Each step he took made them shiver and shake, but he didn't have a choice. It was either walk or get dragged behind the cart by his neck had occurred when he had fallen asleep and not only did his neck feel like it was on fire, he was kicked in the stomach several times by one of the half elf traders to get him to wake up. Not really wanting to go through that lovely experience twice, he shook his head to keep him from stopping. His stomach still throbbed, but he didn't say anything or complain. It wasn't worth risking attracting their attention and getting jabbed in the stomach again.

An owl hooted off into the distance, and Mithos looked up at it. Even though it was alone in the deep forest, the owl had more freedom than he had.

'.. lucky owl..' He sighed to himself and looked down at the ground again. The dirt from the path swept itself into the air each time he stepped and clung to his pant legs and shoes like sand on wet skin.

"How far is it?" The man who led the mule called ahead. The main trader looked back at him and snorted.

"Almost there, Dingus. Now get a move on it or we'll be here all night." He yelled back. The man called 'Dingus' muttered some rude remark to himself and kept the cart rolling. Another man, a skinny one with barely any hair, looked up at the sky and frowned.

"Rain's a'comin." He called. "Let's get outta here."

Mithos' shoulders drooped. In one day, his life had completely turned upside down and he didn't know how to right it again.. or if he could right it again. He glanced back at his sister, who'd been silent the whole time, and looked at her pitifully. Martel looked back at him, smiled a little and then let out a sigh, her mint hair draping over her face.

His neck throbbing more and more by the minute, Mithos turned his head around and ran smack into the back of the wooden cart. His nose on fire from the impact, Mithos shook his head and looked around.

"Huh? Why'd we stop?" He muttered to himself and looked at the large cart that was parked in the mud path. Stretching his neck as far as it would go, Mithos peeked around the cart in an attempt to get a better look.

The band of half elf traders seemed to be all standing in front of the cart in a big pack like a group of wolves and were completely still. Mithos craned his head farther out and blinked at what he saw.

The head trader was in front of the band of trappers and appeared to be watching a third statuary figure with a red shock of hair, round ears and a glare that was fixated on the band. His arms were folded and the tension in the air was almost thick enough to see.

".. it's him. Sis, it's him!" Mithos whispered excitedly. "It's the round eared man I told you about. That's him right there!"

Martel, curious, did as Mithos had done before and stretched her neck out so she could see as well. Her eyes locked on the round eared gentleman, and she continued to watch him. However, unlike like Mithos' expression of sheer adoration, hers was one of apprehension.

"Praytell, what are a band of trappers doing out in the Ymir Forest, where they have been explicitly forbidden to occupy?" The round eared man inquired, though it was more of a comment than an actual question.

"None o' yer beeswax!" The man guiding the mule snapped. The round eared gentleman raised an eyebrow.

"Forgive 'im. He's a stone cold moron." The head trapper replied. "We're just on our way out of this cheer forest now that our business is finished. It was just... pest control." All of the traders broke into raucous laughter.

The round eared man still maintained his elevated eyebrow.

"Anywho, if yer interested, we've got a pair of new ones just itching to be sold. Kid's a skinny whelp, but his sister's quite the looker." He leered at Martel, who glared at him, and then looked back at the round eared man.

"So how 'bout it? Ya buy the lady and we'll throw the kid in half off-"

"There shall be no such transaction."

Silence filled the air.

".. what now?" The head trader blinked. The round eared man opened his eyes and glared coldly, which caused the entire area to feel like it had been blanketed with sheets of ice.

"No such thing shall happen." He repeated. "You men are bandits of the lowest degree. You would sell off women and children to the highest bidder just for your own gain."

"Ah, hey now. Don' be like that. We're just simple-"

"I am perfectly aware of what you are." The round eared man cut him off. The head trader scoffed.

"Ah, come on. They aren't people, they're half-elves. Don't count."

Mithos felt a stab of loathing for the head trader and another twang of affection for the round eared man he barely knew.

The round eared man didn't reply, but still stared down the head trader. The head trader laughed coldly.

"Ah, you know, so what? We're only an honest bunch of-"

"Poachers." The round eared man commented as he looked at the large caravan with the two half elves strung to the back of the cart. "You do, of course, realize that the trapping of half elves is illegal."

The trappers snorted and laughed amongst themselves at the round eared man.

"'Course we do, ya idgit. Who the hell cares? It doesn't matter what the law is outside. 'Round here, we ain't got no rules."

The round eared man merely watched them with a stoic face, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"You also have no grasp on proper grammar or diction either." He replied curtly. "Though, it shall not matter soon." He turned to face the head poacher with no expression in his face.

"And the law does matter.. quite a large amount, in fact." He added quietly. "You have broken the king's decrees of half elf trapping and trespassing and as such.."

He stared them all down, and a few of the poachers recoiled from his presence. Behind the cart, Mithos watched in awe and was afraid to breathe or blink, just in case he would miss something.

"You shall be punished."

"Oh yeah?!" The head poacher yelled in response. "Tough words from a guy who's outnumbered fifteen to one."

Once again, the round eared gentleman didn't reply. He just stared them all down, as if taunting them with a lack of an answer. The head poacher then let out a guttural bellow and pointed at him.

"Kill him!" He shrieked. The rest of the band yelled together and charged at him. Mithos craned his neck around the cart again and paused when he glanced at the round eared gentleman. The round eared man didn't seem scared or even intimidated by the stampede of large and rather rancid smelling men headed his way.

In fact, he just looked bored.

"Mithos, don't look." Martel told him as she shut her own eyes. Mithos closed his eyes tightly, but couldn't help himself. He peeked an eye open so he could watch the round eared gentleman. He couldn't look away. He wouldn't. He didn't want to miss a second.

As the first wave of men, six large, boulder like men charged at him, the round eared man stood there in his spot, not moving an inch. They closed in on him, weapons raised and ready to attack..

.. but they never made contact. A flash of steel flew through the air and all of the men fell backwards onto the ground, large clean slices carved into their chests and abdomens, much like that of a freshly dissected frog. The shock from the blows had slain them all instantly, and pools of blood seeped from the now fresh carcasses. The other six, horrified at what they saw on the ground, all scattered in separate directions and flailed around like chickens who'd been let out of their pen too soon. Two ran into the forest, only to be felled by a hungry beast that had been lurking in the trees, and the other four charged at the round eared gentleman like the previous six had before them.

One man, a rather thick waisted cretin with a square face, ran as fast as he could at the red headed man and dove through the air at an arc towards his chest. The round eared man dodged to the side and let the airborne man collide with a tree trunk, which consequently snapped his neck upon impact. Mithos winced and felt his own neck throb, but watched on.

The three men still standing then attacked him simultaneously, but at three different points that surrounded him. The first thrust out a dagger straight for his ribs, but the other man was quicker. The spiky haired man caught the arm of the charger to the left and threw him into the man on the right so they collided with each other, sending them both crashing into the tree that had snapped the previous man's neck. He then turned on his heel, slashed the third man, who fell to the ground dead, and shook the blood off his sword with one sharp movement of his arm.

Hearing the other two squirm and struggle to get back up and to him, he pivoted on his heel and thrust his sword through the chests of both men until it hit the wood of the trunk of the tree behind them. They wriggled and writhed for a moment, and then laid still.

The round eared man grimaced and pulled out the sword, which was once again drenched with crimson goo. Flicking it off again, he glanced at the remaining three men, the head trader, the mule guide and the skinny man who had predicted rain. He didn't move or even say anything. All he did was raise an eyebrow.

At that point, the mule guide lost his self control and began to hyperventilate. Pulling clumsily at the attachments that held the mule to the cart, he pulled and tugged at the rope. Of course, all that did was irritate the mule. Bringing up it's back legs, the mule kicked the guide right in the forehead, which crushed the bones in his skull. He staggered back, blood running down his face from his nose, and collapsed on the ground, dead as a doornail.

Seeing the guide go down, the man then looked at head trader.

"You can let them go and keep your life, or you may choose death. It is up to you." He said, pointing the tip of the sword at the head poacher. The head poacher blanched and took a step back.

"You.. you... you're one of them..." He breathed, his voice dipped in malice. The round eared man didn't reply, but watched each movement that the head poacher made, no matter who slight it was.

Unbeknownst to him however, the skinny man had slipped around and out of his sight, grinning viciously. In his hands that he hid from view, he held a dagger and a vial of green liquid and began to pour it all over the blade. Once it was thoroughly coated in green slime, he aimed it at the round eared gentleman's back and brought his hand back.

Mithos, who had been watching with bated breath the entire time, caught a glint of the blade and whipped his head around to see the aimed knife.

"Look out!" He called to the round eared man, his voice frantic. The spiky haired man turned and whipped around just in time to have the blade miss his heart. However, it didn't miss it's target. Just the organs.

The blade sank into his left shoulder blade and a spurt of blood leaked out, staining his shirt and cape. The man winced in pain, but shook it off and looked back at the knife thrower. The skinny man let out a squeak and dashed off into the night, though the splash of water, roar from a river predator and a piercing scream indicated that he had been disposed of.

Nodding once to himself, he looked back at the head poacher and pointed his sword at him again. The head herder let out a cry of terror and sprinted away as fast as he could. Though, that wasn't very fast, because he'd grown large on the bounty of others' heads. The red headed man then pulled a dagger that had been strapped to his leg, aimed and threw it at the man. It hit him squarely in the neck and rendered him lifeless in an instant. Mithos' eyes grew round and his gaze shifted from the dead body of the head trapper to his new idol. His eyes, flecked with anticipation, watched the man with reckless abandon, waiting to see what his next move would be.

The round eared man disdainfully glanced around at the scene in front of him, let out a sigh, shook the blood off his sword and returned it to it's sheathe. Running a hand through his hair, he made his way over to the fallen head poacher and pulled the small knife from his neck.

"May you find honor in death as you could not in life." He murmured to the corpse and stood up again. Reaching into his right pants pocket, he pulled out a tiny cloth, cleaned it of the blood it had sustained, and returned it to it's home on his leg.

"..." The man glanced around once more and then spotted Mithos' head peeking at him from around the cart. He raised an eyebrow at the small boy and began to walk around the wagon towards both half elves.

Mithos grinned excitedly, the night air chilling his breath, and watched on pins and needles as the round eared man came towards him and his sister. Martel watched with the same fixated gaze, but was a little more wary of the lone traveler than Mithos had been. As he came closer, Mithos' spine tingled and he was about to explode with questions for the man, like who he was for one and how did he learn to fight like that for two.

The spiky haired man paused when he arrived at the pair of half elves and pulled out the dagger that he had used to dispose of the head poacher. Mithos' eyes widened a little at seeing the blade so close and Martel let out a silent gasp. The man raised an eyebrow at Martel and, to her surprise, began to cut the tether that bound them to the cart. Mithos watched with fascination at how fluidly he worked and Martel did as well, partially out of curiosity for his actions and what he was going to use the dagger for next.

Once the tether to the cart was severed, he carefully sliced the ropes around Mithos' and Martel's necks, though he did so very quickly. Mithos watched his handiwork with awe as he cut the ropes around the boy's torso.

'Wow.. he's so amazing..' He breathed to himself, a bit unsure of what to say to the man that had just fended off a large group of bandits without breaking a sweat or even an expression. Regardless of his speechlessness, he was still fascinated by the round eared gentleman who had come to his rescue again.

Once the ropes that bound Mithos' arms and torso fell to the ground in pieces, Mithos let out a sigh of triumphant happiness and stretched out his arms like he was going to take off into the sky. His aching shoulder blades were singing with the newfound freedom and his arms were jelly, happy to be free from such an uncouthly constriction. The man nodded once and, with precision, sliced off the bonds that were wrapped around Martel's slender wrists. Rope burns where the cord had cut into them showed about her skin and wrists and, upon noticing them, the man frowned and stood up again. Mithos grinned and opened his mouth to speak, but the round eared man turned and began walking around the side of the cart. The blonde half elf frowned and watched him make his way around the wagon, just itching to talk to him.

But something hit Mithos as he watched him walk. His posture and presence were the same as before, but as he moved, Mithos noticed that he didn't have the same cadence in his steps as he had previously shown in his fight and beforehand.

In fact, he seemed a little... wobbly. Mithos frowned again, jumped to his feet, and followed after him.

"Hey, wait a minute!" He called. "I wanna thank-"

A dull thud cut Mithos off and made him screech to a halt. It shook the trees for a moment and then settled in the earth. His eyes shot towards the source of the thud and he felt his throat run dry.

The round eared man was lying on the ground, his eyes closed and his body still. His knife he had used to cut them free was lying near the hand that held it and he didn't make any signs of movement.

"M.. Martel!" Mithos called frantically and ran over to the still form of the round eared swordsman. Kneeling down, he shook his right shoulder and prodded at it.

"Wake up.. come on, wake up!" He urged, moving his shoulder more. Still, there was no response. The swordsman didn't move.

"Mithos, don't move him." Martel called as she ran up to the pair. "Look." She pointed to his other shoulder. The knife that had hit his shoulder was still embedded in it, blood seeping from the wound and onto his cape and shirt. Mithos swallowed hard and looked at Martel, his eyes wide and scared.

"What.. what do we do?" He asked her. "He helped us. We've gotta help him."

Martel nodded and looked at the unconscious swordsman.

"That's right. We do." She nodded, getting to her feet. She looked at the surrounding area and spotted something that made her smile.

"Mithos, help me load him into the cart." She told him. Mithos nodded and, after figuring out the best way to move him without making it worse, they gingerly put the still swordsman into the cart. Mithos almost dropped him once, but managed to catch him before he landed sharply in the dirt again.

Martel then pointed off into the distance.

"There's a cave over in the clearing. Let's go there for now." She told him. Mithos nodded, grabbed the reins of the mule and led it towards the cave.

...

About five minutes of walking and dragging the mule up the hill, the two half elves, the mule and the unconscious cargo arrived at the old cave. It was a rather plain looking cave, grey and weathered, with garlands of vines intertwined along the edge.

Upon their arrival, Martel ran into the cave, and after she'd inspected it and made some rustling noises from inside the cavern, gestured for Mithos to come in as well. Mithos nodded and led the cart and mule into the cave's open maw.

Once he was there, Mithos looked in the cave to see that Martel had turned it into a makeshift campsite, completely with just about everything and the kitchen sink. He glanced at all of the different things she'd brought and gaped at her.

"Sis.. how did you do all this? All the things.... wow." He stared in amazement. Martel smiled at him and continued to work steadily, arranging a campfire site, taking out some firewood and, with the strike of a match, turning into a blazing fire.

"Okay. I think this'll work for now." She nodded, looking down and around inside the cave. Getting to her feet, Martel then took one of the larger blankets out of her pack and spread it out on the dirt floor of the cavern. She straightened it out, made sure there weren't any wrinkles and then turned to Mithos.

"Alright, Mithos. Let's get him out of that cart." She stated and walked up to the cart. Mithos, having been dancing on the balls of his feet in anxiousness ever since they started walking, dove over to the cart and stood raring to go.

Between the hard work of both Martel and Mithos, they brought the unconscious swordsman out of the cart and set him down on the blanket so his back was exposed, the knife still embedded in his shoulder.

"Sis... he's not... dead.. is he?" Mithos asked fearfully. Martel put a hand on his back and felt his pulse with her other hand.

"No, he's alive. Don't worry." She reassured. "He's just unconscious." Mithos let out a breath of relief and sat back on his heels. Martel did the same, and reached a hand into her pack. She pulled out an herb or two and then after getting to her feet, strolled over to the cart and began to rummage through it. Mithos looked at her curiously and tilted his head to the side.

"Sis, what are you getting?" He asked, his hand still resting on the back of the round eared man. Martel looked back at him and held up some gauze, bandages, a needle, some thread, and what looked like a bottle of potion.

"Healing supplies." She grinned triumphantly, sliding out of the cart. Mithos beamed at her and looked back at the unconscious man. His eyes lingered on the blade embedded in the swordsman's shoulder, until Martel sat down on the opposite side of the round eared man and a glint of the needle caught his attention instead.

"Sis, what's the needle for?" He asked, his eyes fixed on the sharp metal instrument. Martel smiled at him tiredly.

"It's in case my healing doesn't close it all the way. He might need stitched up manually."She replied. Mithos blanched and looked back at the still man.

"... oh.. ouch." He winced. Martel laughed a little, and then brushed her hair out of her face. "Now, let's get that knife out."

Mithos nodded and stared intently at the knife in the round eared man's back.

"Now, Mithos. I want you to gently hold him down while I pull out the knife. And don't let go of him either." Martel instructed, rolling up her sleeves as she did. Mithos nodded, followed her example of rolling up his sleeves and put both of his hands on the swordsman's shoulder blades.

Martel inhaled deeply and began to gently pull on the hilt of the knife. It made a sickening squelching noise, but sure enough, the blade slowly slid out of the wound, which then began to bleed steadily. Once the blade was completely out of his shoulder, Martel handed the knife to Mithos, who recoiled when he saw what was on the blade.

"Martel, there's some weird green goo on the blade!" He exclaimed. Martel blinked and frowned as he showed her.

"... it's spiked." She murmured as she looked back at the form of the man who had rescued them, his shoulder still seeping blood from his wound. "They spiked the blade with knock out potion that's used for hunting. That's why he's unconscious."

Mithos' eyes grew thick with anger and he looked back down at the round eared man. Martel did so as well and frowned.

"Mithos, now that the blade is out, we need to get rid of his cape and shirt so I can see what I'm doing." She told him. Mithos paused, but nodded after a minute and, with his help, she managed to remove both the blood stained cape and shirt that the swordsman had been wearing.

His shoulder blade injury was a lot cleaner than she had feared, but still, the steady blood flow from it only stressed Martel further. Mithos looked at her worriedly, but shook his head and held his position at the shoulders again.

Martel grabbed onto some gauze and began to heal him as best she could, though she had only learned one spell and that was for basic injuries, like scraped up knees and cuts. Still, after a lot of time and energy on her part, the wound began to knit and heal, though some blood managed to sneak it's way past the clotting.

"That should be enough. He thankfully won't need stitches, but he'll have to do the rest of the healing on his own." Martel reported as she took her hands away. Mithos let out a breath of relief at not having to watch his sister sow up somebody. Martel then poured a little of the potion on the wound and watched as it slowly absorbed its way into the shoulder wound.

"What's that for?" Mithos asked.

"It's to stave off infection." She replied, dabbing at it with a cloth. "Humans are more susceptible to that sort of thing."

"Oh." Mithos blinked and watched her wipe off the potion on her other cloth.

"Okay, Mithos, I need you to flip him over and prop him up so we can bandage this." Martel said as she reached for some more gauze and wrapping. Mithos looked at his sister like she was crazy, but nodded anyway and, with a great deal of effort, flipped the swordsman over. He then propped him up so he was sitting, yet still unconscious. Martel then gauzed the spot that had been mostly healed and thoroughly potioned and wrapped the bandages around his shoulder and torso. She then made sure he could breath as she continued to unfurl the bandages around his torso.

"Oh look, there's a large abrasion right there." She said to Mithos as she noted a rather large raw looking wound on the side of the right side of his torso. Taking some more linen bandages, she made sure she covered that as well.

"And just look at his forearms and left upper arm.. gotta fix that." Which she did.

"His left wrist isn't looking very good either." And therefore got covered as well.

"And-"

"Uh, sis... we're not trying to mummify him. Just bandage him up." Mithos interjected. Martel paused and looked at the swordsman.

"Oh.. you think I used too much?" She asked, looking back at Mithos.

"Just a tad." Mithos nodded, looking down at the swordsman, who now looked like he was wearing a very odd shirt. Martel sighed.

"Ah well. You're probably right." She nodded and sat back on her heels. Mithos gently lowered the unconscious and now thoroughly bandaged man back onto the blanket and watched him.

'After all that, how can he still be out cold?' Mithos thought incredulously as he stared at the sleeping swordsman.

Thoroughly exhausted, Martel sat back on her heels and inhaled deeply, her hands red and sore. Mithos smiled a little and watched his idol lie there, fully bandaged and still thoroughly out for the count.

"Martel... is he going to be alright?" He asked after a while. Martel looked at her little brother and nodded.

"He should be just fine. He'll be a little weak when he wakes up because of blood loss, but the tranquilizer serum wasn't strong enough to kill him or even send him into a deep sleep. He should wake up soon." She said as she took the brown leather cape that he had worn and draped it over him.

Mithos' shoulders drooped.

"How long until then?" He asked. Martel rested against the wall of the cave and closed her eyes.

"I don't know, Mithos.. I don't know.." Martel murmured and slowly drifted off to sleep. Mithos watched her slumber and then looked back at the man who'd saved him twice in one day.

"Please.. please wake up soon." He whispered. "I haven't thanked you yet."

...

Okay, chapter five is now complete... whew.

Mithos: That's a lot of typing.

Me: You're tellin' me, kid.

Please review and comment!


	7. Out of the Cave and Into the Woods

Disclaimer: Try as I might, I still don't own ToS or the characters.

Chapter Six: Out of the Cave and Into the Woods

A drop of water bounced off Mithos' nose and he blinked an eye open when the freezing drop hit his skin. Yawning, he sat up and mussed his blonde hair, which had formed a shield around his eyes, much like a large bundle of hay that had been strapped to his face. After he straightened out his hair, the young boy looked around at the cavern he'd slept in. Water pooled in from the cave's mouth and collected in a small puddle near the entrance, as the rain hit down on the grassy hill it sat on. Mithos watched the puddle slowly expand and then sat back down on the relatively dry spot he'd occupied during the night.

Another drop of water hit Mithos' nose again and he gazed upwards towards the ceiling, his face now rather damp. Since the cave was set at a downward angle on the hill, water from outside had run along the walls and ceiling like a scattered stream. The self made upside down rivers glistened along the cavern's top and dripped down along the walls.

"... great. It leaks too. Just like home." He sighed and rubbed his face with his dirty sleeve. After it dried, he blinked his eyes a few times and then peeked around again. The cave was much like it had been when they'd found it the night before, and sunlight hadn't done a whole lot to make it any prettier. It was still as damp, dark and ominous as the night had led them to believe, but it was better than being out in the rain, so he didn't mind too much.

Martel was no longer asleep against the wall, but instead was in the corner of the room, her hands fast at work on something that he couldn't quite see. A new fire had been started, and thankfully hadn't yet been extinguished by the leaky cavern. Mithos got up, stretched and waved at her cheerily. Martel waved back, and then put a finger to her lips. Her brother paused, tilted his head and walked over.

"Morning, Martel." He called to her as he gingerly made his way around each puddle he came across. Since the puddles were more apparent than the actual dry ground, Mithos had to do a series of jumps to even get over to her. He was pretty good at the jumping, since he was so small and skinny.

"How are you this- Aaagh!" Mithos missed where'd he'd been planning on landing and his foot sank into a very cold, very wet puddle of rain water. When the frigid water hit his skin, he recoiled and grimaced as mud met with the rain water which made it worse. Martel covered up a laugh and shook her head, determined not to even let one giggle get by. However, it was very hard, because the look of disgust and horror on Mithos' face was downright hilarious.

"Gah, it's like playing hopscotch, but instead of a stone to avoid, it's a nasty puddle." He groaned, pulling his wet shoe, foot and pant leg out of the puddle. Wobbling over to Martel and the small fire, Mithos pulled off his shoe and, after he attached it to a nearby stick, began to toast it dry. Martel looked over at him and couldn't help herself.

She laughed, clutching her lap and the contents in it. Mithos looked over at her, sighed again and looked back at the fire.

"Yeah, Mithos' shoe roasting on an open fire. Very funny." He said flatly as he watched his shoe begin to shed itself of the water. Martel managed to calm herself after a moment and shook her head.

"I.. I'm sorry Mithos... I couldn't help it.. it's just.. too funny..." She said, trying to get her breath back. Mithos nodded and looked back at her.

"So uh.. what are you working on?" He asked her. Martel looked down at her lap and then showed him her needle and thread. Mithos blanched.

"Uh... you're not going to sow someone up.. are you?" He asked. Martel laughed.

"No silly. I'm patching up that part in his shirt that was ripped by the knife." She replied cheerily, mussing Mithos' hair. Mithos looked down at the shirt and then over at the sleeping swordsman.

"Oh, I gotcha." He nodded as he watched the man who was still out of it. He then glanced over her shoulder as she mended, his blonde hair draping over her shoulder.

"You got the blood out then?" He asked. Martel nodded.

"Yes, I did. Blood comes out with cold water and since it's raining, I had a lot of water to work with." She replied, her eyes down on her work. Mithos nodded once, looked away at part of the cave and then looked back over her shoulder.

"Is it a big rip?" He asked. Martel pulled out another piece of thread and laced it through the needle.

"It's not too bad. It's apparent, but not so horrid as to have to salvage the shirt for scrap cloth." She replied.

"Oh." Mithos breathed as he looked over her shoulder a bit more. He sniffed, wiped his nose with his sleeve and peered over her shoulder again.

"How long's he been out?" Mithos asked. Martel brushed some green hair out of her face.

"He hasn't moved since he originally fell unconscious." She reported. "And if he had, I'd guess you'd be the first one to know, seeing as how you spent the whole night right next to him."

Mithos blinked.

"Huh?" He asked. Martel looked up from her mending and pointed to a spot right next to the sleeping swordsman.

"You stayed there all night and didn't move. As such, you were right next to him, so if he moved, I think you would have noticed." She replied, pulling out the thread from the shirt and slipping it back through and in again in a quilting stitch.

"Oh." Mitho sighed sadly. He then glanced over her shoulder, though her shoulders were getting tense.

"How long's it gonna take?" He asked. Martel frowned.

"It depends on the serum on when he'll wake up-"

"No, not that. How long will it take to mend it?"

Martel sighed.

"It depends on how many times I get interrupted." she replied, her voice getting slightly tense.

"Oh." Mithos blinked. He grew silent and Martel's shoulders relaxed. She then resumed sowing, taking the needle back up and through the hole.

"Hey Martel-" Martel jumped and poked herself in the finger with her needle.

"Ouch.. what, Mithos?" She asked, her finger now sporting a bit of red at the tip.

"What color of thread are you using?" He asked. Martel sighed exasperatedly.

"What color does it look like?" She asked. Mithos looked over her shoulder again at the thread.

"It looks white." He replied.

"Then it's white." She said, now growing more tired than she had when she attempted healing the swordsman's wound. Mithos nodded and looked more over her shoulder to the point that she couldn't see past his head.

"Hey, Martel what kind of stitch are you using?"

"Quilting stitch, Mithos."

"Is that just for quilting or is it just for other stuff?"

"It's for more than just quilting, Mithos."

"Could you embroider stuff with it too?"

Martel paused.

"I could, but what would you want me to embroider on it? Your face on the back?" She asked sardonically. Mithos paused and then turned back at her, beaming.

"Would you really do that?" He asked hopefully, grinning from ear to ear. "That'd be so absolutely-"

"Mithos-" Martel pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know you don't mean to be, but you're being very distracting. I need to fix this because I'm sure he'll want it back when he wakes up and I can't give it to him with a gigantic hole in it. Now, why don't you find something to do to keep yourself busy."

Mithos blinked and then rubbed the back of his head.

"Oh, sorry Martel. I didn't mean to be distracting." He looked remorseful. Martel smiled and patted his head.

"I know you didn't, but why don't you go get some firewood? We're running low." She pointed towards the outside. Reaching to her pack, she pulled out an old and ratty looking cape and handed it to him. Mithos took it gratefully, fished out his shoe from the toasting spot he'd gotten and slipped it on. The warmth felt good and comfortable on his foot and he was almost happy that he'd fallen into the puddle. Though, his pant leg was still soaked, so that took away from the happy feeling. Strapping the cloak around his neck, he jumped to the edge of the cave where the mule was and looked back at her.

"So, you'll get back to me on the embroidery thing." He called. Martel laughed and pointed.

"Go, you silly thing." She smiled. Mithos grinned, turned and trotted out the cave to find firewood.

Collecting her things, Martel strolled to the front of the cave, and got into the cart that the mule was hitched up to. Since the mule had been fed earlier that morning, it had fallen asleep while standing and she hadn't had the heart to move it. So, the cart had been in the rain, while the mule had not.

Once she had situated herself inside the cart, she scooted up to the back of it where she was dry, but could still see out into the forest. She then took out the shirt and continued to patch it, watching for Mithos as she did.

........

About an hour after Martel had moved into the cart, a rustling sound came from inside the cavern. It was faint, but a distinctive sound echoed through the latter part of the cave, one that would not have reached her ears from all the way at the front of the cave.

From the far corner of the room, the cape around the round eared gentleman moved ever so slightly, as did the man underneath. His breathing became less of a steady low cadence that most would find with sleep, and more like a person who had been awake for several hours. His arms moved just a little, though not much, and especially not much in the way of movement in his left arm. It was bandaged too much to actually be very mobile.

The swordman's still eyelids squinted a little and slowly opened. His eyelids grew heavy, but he blinked them again a few times and gently shook his head, as if was ridding himself of the forced sleep he'd been sent through. His vision was blurry and all he could see was a large sheet of grey from around and above the room. As he laid there, trying to figure out what had happened and where he was, a droplet of ice water fell from the ceiling and attacked his left cheek. Letting out a small inaudible groan, the round eared man gingerly sat up from where he had been. However, the moment he sat up, a throbbing pain from his shoulder blade erupted and the man winced in pain. He looked back over at his shoulder, expecting to see a knife, but stared at the lack of nothing that awaited his gaze. Frowning, he then looked down at himself and paused.

A good portion of the area around his torso had been covered with bandages, a lot of bandages. His shoulders, forearms, left upper arm and wrist were also covered and from the slight tinge of alcohol in the air, he could tell that there'd also been disinfectant. Raising an eyebrow, the swordsman looked at the area around him and his other eyebrow slowly joined the first.

Slowly, the man took the cape off himself and sat up a bit more so he could see fully what situation he'd gotten into, though not too far, because the wound on his back would have protested vociferously. Noting the camp like setting, he figured there had to be someone else besides himself there, because he did not remember setting one up. Though, he didn't remember getting rid of his shirt or even coming there in the first place, so the notion didn't help him much.

However, a fact that weighed as much as the Kharlan tree came hurtling into his mind and hit him like a ton of bricks. As he sat there, shirtless, confused and his head pounding, he realized that he didn't have his sword.

"... where's my sword?" He frowned, looking around where he had been laying. It wasn't there. He frowned some more, his eyes dilating, and he quickly scanned the area all around the room for any sign of it.

"....." He glared at the darkness, save the small fire, and shook his head in frustration. As he did, a spark of the fire fell onto the wet ground and emanated part of the room that had been darkened before. His eyes flashed towards where the spark had landed, and a glint of steel shimmered briefly before it dulled again.

"....." The round eared swordsman's eyes lingered on that spot, though it was hard to tell because his red hair still covered close to half of his face. Gathering up some strength, he gingerly got up and walked over to where the glint had been.

Sure enough, his sword rested gently against the wall of the cavern, water dripping from the hilt and down the rest of the sheathe. Sighing a little, he picked it up, wiped off the hilt with his bandaged arm and returned it to its rightful place at his hip.

"Hey, you're awake!"

The man froze, then turned around and instinctively drew the sword. He then pointed it at the owner of the voice that had startled him.

"Whoa!" Mithos stared at the tip of the sword that was pointed at his nose, dropping the firewood on the ground in the process. The half elf looked down briefly at his fallen wood pile and then his eyes shot back to the steel in front of his face. His eyes crossed as he watched the sword carefully, not really sure how to react.

"......" The swordsman didn't say anything.

".. uh... hi." Mithos said as he continued to stare at the blade. The swordsman, who kept the sword aloft, watched the wood wielding boy and paused.

".... who are you, where is this and ... where is my shirt?" He said in a deep voice. Mithos blinked and looked around.

"Uh.. I'm Mithos, this is a cave, and your shirt's over there." He pointed to the cart. The swordsman looked up at the cart, raised an eyebrow and lowered his sword.

".. I see." He replied. He replaced the sword back in it's sheathe and looked at Mithos, who was still staring at the sword. "I'm sorry to have startled you."

"Startled... isn't the word for it." He replied, his eyes still on the sword. The swordsman looked at his surroundings and frowned.

"How did I come to be here?" He asked Mithos after a while.

"We brought you here when you were unconscious." He replied, picking the wood back up piece by piece. The swordsman raised an eyebrow.

"Unconscious?"

Mithos nodded and dusted himself off as he put the wood down.

"Yeah, you got hit in the back when you were fighting those bandit guys and it was spiked with knockout serum." He added. "Got you with a knife in the back." He brushed his blonde hair out of his face. "But you're okay now. We fixed you up and all." He beamed at him.

At that point, memories of the previous night came flooding back into his mind and he remembered what had happened. The incident with the bandits and the half elves' rescue brought itself to light and he nodded slightly.

"I see." He replied and glanced around the cave. "Then you would be one of the half elves from before, then."

Mithos nodded and moved a piece of firewood.

"Yep, that's me." He replied cheerily, his hair still wet from the outside downpour. The swordsman glanced back at him.

"I believe I recall there were two of you." he commented. "Where is the second? A young woman with long hair."

"Oh, you mean Sis?" Mithos looked around and paused. "She should be around here.... Martel?"

Mithos scanned his eyes around the cavern and then looked over in the cart. Trotting over to the cart, he looked into it and waved for the swordsman to come over.

"She's in here!" He called. "Come and see!" Raising an eyebrow the swordsman did so and looked in the cart.

Martel was fast asleep in the cart, having slumped over from where she had been working. The shirt laid out in her grasp, freshly mended and ready for wear, but she was half laying on it, so it wasn't really ready for wear after at all.

Mithos blinked and looked at the swordsman sheepishly.

"Uh.. eheh.. Martel... Martel, wake up!" Mithos called. Martel didn't move. The swordsman sighed and shook his head once.

"Do not concern yourself with that. There is no need to disturb her." He said briefly before he walked back over to the other side of the room and picked up his cape. Mithos didn't look too convinced.

"Urm.. okay." He groaned and then trotted after the swordsman. He continued walking after him, but stopped about three feet away. There he stood and he waited for the man to say something... anything.

The swordsman let out a slow exhale and folded his arms. Mithos watched and wondered if he should do the same thing.

'That's a good plan.' He decided and, letting out a slow exhale, folded his arms just like the round eared gentleman had done. Hearing the small breath, the older man looked over his shoulder at Mithos and raised an eyebrow. Mithos looked up at him and grinned.

Eyebrow still raised, the round eared man closed his eyes and began to think. His arms folded, he stayed like that for quite a while. During that time, Mithos inched his way closer.. and closer.

Opening an eye, the swordsman looked over at the boy, though he now was about ten inches away.

"Is there something you wish to ask?" He asked. Mithos beamed and nodded.

"Yeah. You have a name right?" He asked. "What is it?"

The swordsman was silent for a moment and then opened the other eye.

"Kratos." He replied simply. Mithos' eyes widened and he grinned broadly.

"It's nice to meet you, Kratos." He beamed. He glanced at the bandages and then at Kratos' face again.

"So, how're you feeling? Better?" He asked. "Martel did a pretty thorough job patching you up and stuff. I told her she shouldn't use that much bandages, but it looks pretty good anyway. At least you aren't bleeding anymore."

Kratos looked at Mithos and raised an eyebrow. Mithos picked up another piece of wood.

"Yep, that blade didn't want to come out, but we pulled, or I held you down and she pulled it out and there was green stuff on it. At first I thought it was blood, but it turns out that it was this weird knock out stuff that the trader put on it to knock you out. That's why you fell into the dirt." He replied cheerfully. Kratos watched Mithos silently, not really sure how and if he should react.

"But you were so great when you were fighting back there! It was so amazing. I couldn't stop watching everything you did. I've never seen anything like it before." He added as he continued placing the wood in a pile.

"That was so cool, plus you were so agile. It was like you weren't even trying." Mithos looked back at Kratos and swayed back and forth. Kratos looked pensive for a minute and then a small smirk lingered on the corners of his face.

"I see." He replied. "Then I take it you witnessed the whole endeavor." He commented. Mithos grinned as he stacked some more firewood and nodded.

"I didn't miss a minute. I couldn't look away." He beamed, still swaying.

As he listed from side to side, the blonde half elf heard a small rustle of fabric and supplies coming from the cart. Turning on his heels, he gazed at the cart and grinned toothily at Kratos.

"Oh, Martel's awake. Come on." Mithos bounded over to the cart and dove in. Once inside the cart, he scurried over to Martel, who was sitting up and rubbing her eyes with her left hand.

"Martel, Martel, guess what?" He exclaimed happily. "The round eared swordsman woke up! He did, and he's got a name and everything." Martel smiled tiredly at Mithos and brushed her hair out of her face.

"That's good that he has a name. And do you know what his name is?" She asked, folding up the shirt she'd mended. Mithos sat back on his heels.

"Yeah, his name is Kratos and he's really amazing. He's got a deep voice and he doesn't say a whole lot, but he gets the point across when he does." He reported happily. "He's out in the cave and you need to meet him too." He pointed out of the cart to where Kratos was standing.

Kratos wasn't looking at the cart anymore, rather he was inspecting the inside of the caves. Even though it was too hard to see, he still looked down at them, as if expecting to see something come running out.

Scooting so she could see, Martel peered out of the cart and looked at Kratos. She watched him for a good moment or three and then carefully got out of the cart. Mithos wasn't so careful, and dove out of the cart in a mad dash back to where Kratos was standing.

"Kratos, Kratos, come meet Martel!" He called happily. Kratos looked over his shoulder at Mithos, nodded and then turned to see Martel coming towards him. He watched her for a while as she drew nearer and Mithos ran out to meet her halfway. When Mithos got to her, he snatched her hand and led her over to Kratos as fast as he could avoid all the puddles that littered the floor.

"Sis, this is Kratos. Kratos, this is my sister Martel." Mithos beamed at her and then at him. Kratos bowed in greeting and Martel did the same.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Martel." He greeted politely. "Thank you for your aid. I am in your debt."

Martel shook her head, Mithos beaming at him all the while.

"No, not at all. I didn't do much, really. But thank you very much for coming to our rescue. We owe you a great amount for saving us." She replied, smiling warmly as she did. Kratos shook his head, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"It was nothing. Think nothing of it." He replied. Kratos was silent for another moment, though it was pretty obvious to Mithos that he normally was. Martel stayed silent as well and looked out to where he'd been looking.

"And If there's anything we can do for you, name it and we'll do our best." Martel offered as she gazed into the cave.

"Thank you, but it was really nothing." Kratos replied. He closed his eyes, looking pensive and remained that way for a few minutes, before he broke the silence that filled the cave.

"However, I do have a few questions for you, if you don't mind." He said finally. Martel blinked, breaking out of her staring trance of the cave and looked up at Kratos, who was a good foot taller than she was.

"What? Oh, no, we don't mind." Martel replied. "Do we Mithos?"

"Nope, I've got some questions too." Mithos added happily. Kratos nodded to both of them.

"Good." He said. "Now, why were the pair of you captured? What circumstances led that to happen?"

Martel looked sad and let out a breath as her shoulders drooped.

"The Chieftain died in a fire last night. After that, the Vice Chieftain ordered us out and had the half elf traders lead us out into the forest."

His mahogany eyes flashing, Kratos locked eyes with Martel.

"The Chieftain is dead?" He repeated. "... I see. That's a shame. He was a good man."

"He was." Martel agreed. "He was the only reason we were allowed to stay in Heimdall." Mithos looked over at Martel, and his jaw dropped.

"What? The Chieftain was-"

"Yes, Mithos." Martel nodded. "He was the only thing standing between us and being thrown out of Heimdall a very long time ago."

Mithos frowned and balled his hands into fists.

"That's... that's.... unforgivable.... just horrible.." He said, his voice taut with anger. Kratos glanced briefly at Mithos and then at Martel again, his arms folded.

"And that is why you were being led out of the Ymir Forest." He concluded. "Do you have any idea as to where your destination was?"

"No, we didn't hear. Only that we were being ousted. I did not hear exactly where the traders had planned to take us." She replied.

"Yeah, but we didn't get that far, 'cause you rescued us." Mithos interjected. Martel nodded.

"That is true." She agreed. "Thank you once again." Kratos shook his head and looked at the cave entrance.

"It seems as though the rain is beginning to clear up." He commented. Martel looked, as did Mithos, and smiled as she saw the rain disappear.

"That's wonderful." She smiled and looked back at Kratos, who was also looking at the weather. As she looked, her hands squeezed the shirt that she still held. Pausing, she looked down at it and froze.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You probably want your shirt back now." She said, handing it to him. "There was a hole in it, so I patched it for you, so it should be fine now." Kratos took the shirt from her and bowed again slightly.

"Thank you for doing so." He nodded. "I appreciate it." Martel smiled at him and then began to pack up the camp that she'd created. As she did, Mithos looked over at Kratos and tilted his head to the side.

"So, what do you doing here anyway? I've never seen a human in Heimdall before or even ever." Mithos said as he picked up some things. Kratos slipped the shirt on and reached for his cloak, which he'd folded and tucked away.

"I was on business." He replied. Mithos looked confused.

"What kind of business?" he asked. Kratos raised an eyebrow as he put the cloak on.

"The business kind." He stated flatly.

"Oh, I gotcha." Mithos nodded. "And you just ran into them on the way out?" Kratos picked up the dagger and began to strap it to his leg.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose." He replied. Mithos watched him attach it to his leg quietly and stood up.

"So.. are you going to come with us?" He asked hopefully. Kratos paused.

"... pardon?"

"Come with us, you know, leave with us and travel and stuff?" Mithos asked, taking up some things Martel had not managed to stash into her bag and loading them into the wagon. "I mean, you're traveling alone right? Can you come with us?"

Kratos stood up and sighed.

"That would be up to your sister. I do not wish to speak for-"

"SIS!" Mithos called into the cave as loudly as he could, which made Kratos' ears ring. "Can Kratos come with us?"

Martel emerged from the back part of the cavern, having tucked the last bit of things into her bag.

"That would be up to him, but I don't have any reason to object." She replied happily. "It would be very nice indeed."

Kratos, who hadn't really been expecting that as an answer, looked out at the entrance to the cave. He then began to think, though it was rather difficult to keep his thoughts together with Mithos practically bouncing up and down in anticipation. He raised an eyebrow at the spirited boy, and then closed his eyes. After a minute, he sighed and opened his eyes.

"To cross the Ymir Forest successfully, one would need to know how to do so, and if not, one would need an escort." He said quietly. "And once out of the forest, bandits lurk about the highways. It wouldn't be safe for two people who could not prevent or fend off attack, especially not for half elves."

"So, you'll do it?" Mithos asked, practically bursting with anticipation. Kratos let out a sigh.

"I suppose, if you would like, I shall accompany you." He replied, his arms folded across his chest.

"That's GREAT!" Mithos beamed and almost did a somersault he was so happy. Bounding over to the cart, he looked out onto the now dry and sunny weather and took in a big breath.

"Come on, come on! Let's go!" he grinned at both of them and started tugging at the mule's reins.

Kratos watched him, raised an eyebrow and looked over at Martel.

"He's very.. energetic." He commented. Martel smiled and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Only when he has a reason to be." She replied cryptically, a small smile playing about her face, as strolled out of the cavern and down the path next to Mithos. Kratos watched the pair of them for a moment, shook his head once as he checked that his sword was firmly secured to his hip and walked down the path behind the cart and the pair of half elf siblings.

.....

Oof, Chapter 5 done. That took a while.

Mithos: Don't you have work to do?

Me: ..... maybe.

Please review and comment!


	8. Mr Noishe's Wild Ride

Disclaimer: Still own nothing of the ToS variety, which makes me sad.

Chapter Seven: Mr. Noishe's Wild Ride

As streaks of sunlight sneaked through the trees and into the Ymir Forest, a creaking of wagon wheels filled the quiet morning air, along with happy chatter that sounded like a young boy who'd been filled with sugar cane.

Mithos, Martel, Kratos and the mule all trudged through the twisting paths of the Ymir Forest, the decrepit cart creaking behind them. Mithos was in the lead, his face beaming as he paraded through the thicket of low branched trees. He trotted through the branches of the willow trees and parted them flamboyantly like he was opening a very glossy set of stage curtains. Because of his happy grin, no one who hadn't been there personally would have guessed that the prior night he'd lost his home due to a sadistic new chieftain and a band of heartless half elf trappers.

Kratos, silent as ever, walked next to the mule, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword and the other gently touching the mule's shoulder. The swordsman wasn't nearly as chipper as Mithos, nor was the mule. Earlier that day, both the mule and Kratos had been laden with the task of maneuvering the cart through the wooden bridges across the swampy lowlands of the Ymir forest. On more than one occasion, the cart, the mule and Kratos had almost landed in the thick watery substance that coated the floor of the swamp, which was then coupled with the exuberant and loud commentary of one Mithos the half elf.

Needless to say, both the mule and the swordsman were tired, rather cranky and sick of the forest.

The entire trip so far had consisted of walking, avoiding the swamplands, fending off some weak monsters on Kratos' part, and Mithos being a conversational waterfall. He hadn't left Kratos' side since they had set off. And as a result, he hadn't stopped talking.

"-and that's how I got stuck under that deck. I didn't even know I had that thing in my hand until I saw you guys in the garden." Mithos chattered jubilantly as he trotted along next to Kratos.

"I see." Kratos replied, his eyes on the main road that stretched down and out of the Ymir Forest which then lead into the great plains of the lower southeast continent of Tethe'alla. He hadn't actually said anything in response to the ramblings of the eleven year old boy, with the exception of a grunt, a quick 'yes' or 'no', or an 'I see'. Though, the boy hadn't seemed to mind at all. He was too preoccupied with spilling all his thoughts and ideas onto the older man out of great awe and hero worship.

"Hey, thanks a bunch for helping us out back there." Mithos continued on his long string of consciousness, inching his way closer to Kratos as he went. "I thought we were half-elf hamburger. You were so cool back there when you were fighting, like you weren't even trying at all and yet they were all so freaked when they saw you. Where'd you learn to do that and how did you learn it? I bet it took you a while, but you're really good, so maybe it didn't, but anyway it was still really neat when you threw that knife at the leader and got him in one shot-"

Kratos listened to Mithos' great recap of the events of the previous night on half an ear. As he walked, he glanced down the path that snaked through the trees and watery swamp that surrounded Heimdall. His eyes shifted from the path to various trees and kept switching them back and forth as they went, tucking them into his memory for reference. Getting the cart through the wooden walkways once was hard enough. The last thing he wanted to do was realize that they had gotten lost and have to backtrack through it again. Because, at the rate Mithos was going, chances were very good that he would get to hear about it in great detail.

Martel had stayed on the other side of the cart, her hand wrapped around the reins of the mule. While Kratos did have a hand on the mule, she still thought it would be wise to take the reins anyway. Even if he didn't show it, he was still recovering from quite an injury he'd gotten on their behalf and probably wouldn't be able to easily control the mule if it decided to make a break for it. Though, she'd played his injury down considerably because A) he obviously seemed the type who didn't want to draw attention to himself and B) Mithos would have bugged him to death about it if she let it slip. Instead, she gently strolled next to the mule quietly, petting it a little as she did. The mule had seemed to take to her pretty quickly, so it didn't mind her doing so. From time to time, she'd glance over at the pair on the other side of the mule and smile to herself. Mithos hadn't ever had another male to talk to, and, try as she might, Martel couldn't fill that gap due to a disadvantage in gender. So, seeing Mithos chat vociferously at Kratos was a blessed sight indeed.

"And you also stopped the Vice Chieftain, who's a royal jerk, with just an eyebrow. I mean, how did you do that?! No one's ever been able to.." Mithos paused and stared down the path, frowning as he did.

A large beam of light shone through the trees as it sat at the edge of the forest path. It was very vivid and yellow, with a tinge of blue hinting around the rim of the light. His intrigue getting the better of him, Mithos eyed the bright light and ran ahead a little, his face wracked with curiosity. As he got closer, Mithos screeched to a halt and put his hand on his forehead like a visor.

"Hey, that's a lot brighter than the rest of the forest." He pointed at the snaking pathway and looked back at Kratos. Kratos looked out at the path's destination and nodded curtly.

"Then we must be near the exit." He replied. Mithos grinned and swayed from side to side as he marched back next to Kratos.

"We must've travelled a lot. Martel said the village was closest to the center of the forest, so if we're near the outskirts, it's gotta have been hours that we've been walking." Mithos commented cheerily, his eyes focused on Kratos.

"Doesn't feel like it, though." He added, grinning at Kratos happily.

"......"

Kratos sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Martel coughed into her hand, fighting back a laugh. As they walked towards the bright patch of sunlight, Mithos jogged ahead and gestured for the pair to follow.

"Mithos, don't go too far!" Martel called. Mithos grinned, his fists on his hips.

"I'm okay!" He shouted back. "I'm just goin' into the light!"

"... heh."

Martel paused and glanced over at Kratos, who was watching the blonde boy with a slightly amused expression. Noticing that he was being watched, he looked at Martel out of the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow. She smiled at him and pulled the mule's reins so it would walk faster, directing it towards Mithos and the light source.

Mithos kept on running towards the beam of yellow light that lingered just beyond a gigantic willow tree. As he came closer, he skidded to a halt and walked closer to the curtain of green.

".. hm..." Mithos frowned and, with his left hand, pulled the curtain of green back. Light from all sights rushed at him and he had to cover his eyes to keep himself from getting blinded.

"Ugh...... huh?" Mithos peeked an eye open and froze. His eyes locked on what he saw and his jaw dropped.

Fields of amber and emerald met his gaze, along with a bright brown path that stretched out longer than the half elf could see. It wound around the fields and hills, which were splashed with hues of yellows, greens and oranges. The vivid green trees shone with sparkling dots of blues, purples and pinks, colors Mithos had never seen in the village before. Sunlight danced along it all, flecking the clear rain puddles with dots of yellow and lit it all up like a chorus of fireflies.

He couldn't think. He couldn't move. He was too busy staring, not daring to miss even the slightest bit of color.

Martel, Kratos and the mule slowly emerged from the Ymir Forest, the drape of willow branches parting for them like a sea of reeds. Martel took in a small gasp of surprise and Kratos let out a shallow exhale of relaxation. Seeing the sun was a great relief, since being in the forest wasn't very bright and that made it difficult to see his surroundings, letting enemies linger unnoticed. Sure, it was a little paranoid, but then again, so was Kratos.

Mithos, getting the sensation that his brain had begun to make a comeback from such an overload of feelings, let out a large whoop and practically bounded into the air. He grinned from ear to ear and pumped a fist towards the sky.

"Wow.. WOW!" He gaped at the scenery in front of him. Spinning on his heel, he waved to the two others and the mule enthusiastically, barely able to contain his excitement.

"Martel, look at all this space! Have you ever seen so much before?! It's so wide!" He spread his arms out like he was flying and ran down the path into the huge field. Martel watched him go and smiled. Kratos raised an eyebrow at the jumping Mithos and rested his left hand on the hilt of his sword. Silence filled the air, with the exception of Mithos' nearby whoops of joy. Amazingly enough, it was Kratos who broke it.

"He's never seen a field this large, then." The stoic swordsman commented as he watched Mithos bound through the field, laughing as he went. Martel shook her head.

"He's only ever known the village. Something like this is very new and different for him." She replied. "But, I'm happy he could see this. He's a growing boy and needs to run and move." Kratos nodded a little and folded his arms so they rested against his chest. A twinge of his back shoulder made him freeze for a moment and wince, but he didn't comment on it. Looking over his shoulder, he glared briefly at where the knife had embedded itself in his shoulder and let out an annoyed, but silent breath.

"Tch." He frowned, readjusting his cape so it wouldn't be dragging on the sensitive spot and continuing on as if nothing had occurred. However, unfortunately for him, Martel noticed the small 'tch' he'd made and turned her attention over to him, her large green eyes fixated on him. She watched him walk for a moment and nodded to herself.

"By the way, how is your shoulder?" She asked casually, her green hair flittering in the wind. Kratos kept on walking down the path, while Mithos continued his field frolicking.

"It's fine." Kratos replied. Martel raised a mint eyebrow.

"Doesn't sound fine to me." She commented, glancing at where his shoulder blade was, though it was hidden by his shirt and cape.

"It is. Perhaps it is a little stiff, but that is all." Kratos repeated. Martel smiled at him and looked up at the sky.

"If you say so, but best to keep an eye on it anyway." She replied smiling, and glanced back at the blue sky overhead. Kratos watched her out of the corner of his eye and then looked at the clear sky as well. Every so often, she'd glance back at him and then avert her gaze when his eyes shifted to her.

"Something on your mind?" He asked after a while, looking at her full on. Martel paused and blinked, surprised at him for noticing.

"It's nothing. I'm fine." Martel replied cheerily, twirling a strand of her hair around her fingers.

"I see." He stated quietly and continued on in silence. Martel watched him go ahead a few steps and sighed, her shoulders drooping.

"Kratos, I want to apologize for being so startled the other night when you came to help us." She walked up next to him. "I was disoriented and shaken over what had happened and I-"

"Don't worry about it." Kratos interjected, holding up a hand to stop her apology. "You had a shaken and traumatic experience. It's natural to be disoriented. If you hadn't been would have been more suspect than actually being so. Besides, I can't blame you for being cautious." He shifted his left hand back to the hilt of his sword and sighed.

"Though I wish it were otherwise, it's a rare sight to see a human rescuing half elves. Your worry was justified."

Martel fell silent. So did Kratos. All that filled the air were the distant laughs and echoes of Mithos as he bounded through the amber and green field.

".. why did you come to help us?" She asked suddenly, her eyes fervent. Kratos raised an eyebrow.

"You were in need of assistance. I assisted." He replied simply.

"But why? Most people would have passed us by." Martel countered. "But you didn't. At the very least, you're an exceptional human. But... why?" Kratos held a small smile for a second, and then turned his eyes to the sky.

"It is my duty to help those who are in need, regardless. That is all." He stated firmly and stepped down the path in silence. Martel blinked in surprise, and then her face softened.

"That's... a very good mantra." She beamed at him, though he was too far away to hear her.

Meanwhile, Mithos continued to dart in and out of the field, his hair whipping about his face. He'd never had so much room to just run through, and there wasn't a chance that he was going to miss out. He kept on going, running faster and faster, taking it all in as well as he could. However, in all his surveying, he didn't watch where he was going and tripped over something.

Something very large and very furry.

Mithos landed face first in the dirt, his body propelled by momentum and did a few somersaults before he stopped, thoroughly covered in the dust from the bottom of the field.

"Oof... ow.." Mithos propped himself up on his forearms and looked around. He didn't see anything at all, let alone anything that would have tripped him. Shaking his head once, Mithos frowned and got up out of the dirt.

"Huh... why'd I trip?" He asked himself out loud, looking around the field. "I mean, there's nothing that-" Mithos froze. At the far edge of the field, he couldn't believe it, but he saw a pair of white and green fans float across the field. The fans seemed to be wandering around the field aimlessly. Regardless, Mithos couldn't tear his eyes off them. As they wandered, the fans suddenly stopped, twitched, and then rapidly dove to the side of the field towards the cart.

"Martel, Kratos, Look out!" Mithos called as loud as he could. Martel and Kratos' heads both snapped towards where Mithos pointed just in time to see a flash of green and white jump out of the field and dive into the air. The blur then collided with Kratos' chest and knocked him to the ground.

Seeing the large creature dive on Kratos, Martel and Mithos both yelled in horror, their eyes wide. Startled, the mule reared up on it's back legs and, wrenching the reins from Martel's hands, took off down the road, taking the cart along with it. Martel gasped when she registered what had happened, but her eyes quickly shifted to Kratos. Things were things, but people were a completely different matter. However, when she turned to help him, she paused.

Martel blinked, both her hands over her mouth, and Mithos stared, still neck deep in amber.

The odd creature that had attacked Kratos hadn't really attacked him at all.

It was nuzzling his face and wagging it's long green and white tail while it did.

"Ack... Noishe, down boy, get off me, Noishe, Down!" Kratos struggled against the weight of the large animal and, after a few minutes of effort, managed to finally pry him off.

"Whine." Noishe sat back on the ground, his large tail thumping the earth and making it shake. Kratos sat up, shook his head once and righted himself. Once he did so, he brushed off his cape with a flick of his wrist and looked at the other two. He didn't say anything, but raised an eyebrow.

"... Kratos..." Mithos, having exited the field, came a bit closer, his eyes fixated on Noishe. "What... what is that thing?"

Kratos looked at Noishe, who looked back and wagged his tail some more.

"This is Noishe. He's a protozoan and he was supposed to wait by the ferry." The swordsman replied, eyeing the large animal with a stern glare.

"Bark!" went Noishe, who began to pant and wag his tail some more, completely disregarding the glare. Mithos, still looking skeptical, gave Noishe a good long look and put his hands on his hips like Martel would when she was unsure over whether or not Mithos had been telling the truth.

"You sure? He looks like a dog to me." Mithos said, sizing up Noishe.

"I'm not sure about that, Mithos. I've never seen a dog that looks like that." Martel replied, "Not one that's mint green and white with purple paws, let alone this big." She looked at Kratos and then at Noishe.

"Is he safe?" She asked, watching Noishe pant and stare into space. Kratos nodded.

"Yes, he's very safe. If you wish, you can pet him. He's a champion flashlight holder." He replied with a sigh. Mithos looked at Kratos, confused.

"What's a flashlight?" He asked.

"A product of magitechnology. It's a common device used by humans so they can see where there is no light. Elves don't employ it because they have the ability to summon the light mana on their own." The stoic swordsman replied, his arms folded. "Regardless, he was supposed to wait by the ferry." He glared at Noishe, who panted and licked Mithos' face. Mithos laughed and began to pet him, his fingers running through the silk fur. Noishe' tail began to wag back and forth more rapidly and he licked Mithos' face more. Martel also began to pet the protozoan, who was loving the attention. He flipped over on his back and showed them his stomach, just enticing them to pet it.

"Oh, he's so cute!" Martel cooed and began to rub Noishe's stomach. Mithos laughed and quickly joined his sister in massaging Noishe. Kratos pinched the bridge of his nose, his cheeks slightly red with embarrassment at Noishe's display.

"Have a little dignity, would you?" He curtly told the bliss ridden Noishe, who was loving every minute of it. Martel laughed as she rubbed Noishe's tummy and Mithos' got licked, grinning ear to ear .

After about ten minutes of playing with Noishe, Mithos looked up at the road.

"Well.. where do we head from here?" Mithos asked. "The cart and the mule are long gone."

Martel stood and ran a hand through her hair.

"Hm.. I'm not really sure. I don't think there's any towns on this continent. Except for Heimdall, that is." She sighed. Kratos nodded.

"That is true. The closest town near here is Exire, and that is across the sea. The only way to cross to the other continent is to take the ferry that is on the north side of the Latheon Gorge." He replied, his arms folded. Mithos gaped.

"That far?" He asked, his jaw dropped. "I heard that's at least five days on foot." Martel nodded and dusted off her dress.

"We'd better get started, then." She replied with a smile to Mithos and began down the road. Mithos nodded, dust still covering his clothes, and trotted after her. Kratos, however, stayed still. Glancing over at Noishe, he subtly gestured at them and raised an eyebrow. Noishe nodded, got up and ran past the half elf siblings, blocking their path.

"Noishe, what're you-" Mithos began, but Noishe barked and wagged his tail. Mithos tried to get past him, but Noishe would just get in his way and wag his tail.

"Kratos, he won't move-" Mithos turned on his heel to complain to Kratos, but paused when he saw that Kratos had put away his cape and had pulled out three pairs of goggles from the pack on his hip.

"Kratos, what are you doing?" He asked. Kratos glanced up at Mithos and Martel.

"What if.. I told you the trip to the ferry could be accomplished in a matter of two hours, as opposed to five days? Would you be interested?"

Mithos blinked and Martel stepped forward.

"Yes, we would be very interested." She nodded. "But how would we do that?" Silently, Kratos stepped forward and handed them each a pair of goggles.

"Noishe is very fast and safe. If we ride him, the ferry will be, but a matter of hours away." He replied, Noishe now standing next to his companion. Mithos looked at Noishe and then at Martel.

"Martel, can we? Can we ride Noishe?" He asked, his eyes brimming with excitement. "Pretty please?" Martel thought for a moment and, after a minute, nodded.

"Alright, but will he be able to carry us all?" She looked at Noishe. Noishe and Kratos both looked at each other and Mithos could have sworn that Noishe was smirking.

"That won't be a problem. I assure you." Kratos replied. Mithos pumped a fist into the air.

"Alright! Let's go!" The young half elf beamed and rushed over to Noishe. Noishe stood at the ready, head pointed forward and shoulders squared, waiting to be sat on. Mithos planted both of his hands on Noishe' side and tried swinging a leg over.

It wouldn't go over.

Mithos tried jumping onto Noishe so he could pull himself on.

He couldn't reach.

Mitho tried climbing up Noishe' tail.

He slid off.

It was at the point that Mithos was about to charge Noishe at a sprint and leap onto him that Kratos intervened and put him on Noishe's shoulders. Martel, who'd been watching the whole time, had to look away when Kratos glanced at her because it was so cute, it was almost driving her to tears of laughter. Kratos raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless helped her onto Noishe' back and rounded to Noishe' head. Reaching into his pack, Kratos pulled out a bridle and showed it to Noishe. Noishe looked at it in disgust, but sighed and let Kratos equip it.

Mithos, who had put on the goggles and did a very good impression of a fly, looked around Noishe' head.

"What're you putting on Noishe?" He asked.

"It's a bridle." Kratos replied. "It helps me steer." The small boy glanced at Noishe and then at Kratos.

"Oh." Mithos replied, sitting back. "He doesn't look like he likes it all that much."

"He doesn't. I normally don't make him wear it, but when it's more than one person, it's safer to keep it on. He doesn't like it, but he knows it." Kratos replied, adjusting the strap. Mithos looked back at Noishe and patted his back.

"Sorry, Noishe."

"Whine."

After he checked that the bridle was secure, Kratos got on and sat so Mithos was in front of him and Martel was holding onto his abdomen, her arms tightly linked together by a death grip. Kratos winced once as his shoulder squawked, but didn't say anything.

"Alright.. do you both have your goggles on?" He asked them. Mithos looked back at him in all his bug eyed glory and beamed.

"Yep." He grinned. Martel looked around Kratos' shoulder, her goggles firmly secure as well.

"I do too." She nodded cheerily and then squished herself as tightly as she could against Kratos for fear of falling off. Kratos winced again, but gripped the reins and veered Noishe to the left.

"Right then. Let's go." He stated firmly to no one in particular as he put on his goggles. Mithos beamed again and held on.

"Y'know, this is cool that I'm in front and Martel's behind you on Noishe." He grinned, his fingers laced in Noishe's fur. "It's like a Kratos sandwich."

".... sure."

A crack of the reins and Noishe took off like a shot down the path, his mint and white ears . He whipped past the fields, lakes and streams that dotted the landscape and made them all look like one giant blur.

Martel didn't look. She didn't want to look. However, her eyes thought otherwise and, regardless of what she wanted, they blinked open just in time to see that they were soaring through the air over what looked like a gorge that had a very long drop downward. She let out a silent shriek and clung tighter to Kratos' ribs, her eyes snapped shut.

Kratos, who was trying to steer, had to choke down a groan of pain every time Martel tightened her grip and squished herself dangerously close to his healing knife wound. His eyes began to water, but he continued to watch the plains anyway, his sense of concentration arguing with his pain receptors. However, in the end, the wish to not crash overcame the urge to pay more attention to the pain. Crashing led to more pain and that wouldn't be good.

Blinking an eye open, Mithos watched as all of the landscapes soared past them, completely oblivious to both the wincing Kratos or the perfectly terrified Martel behind him. He didn't stare for long, since too much watching led to a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach and he didn't want to travel down that road, so to speak. So, he alternated between watching the landscape and clinging against Noishe like his life and his breakfast depended on it.

....

Two hours and a lot of clinging later, the Protozoan, the human and the two half elves reached the Ymir Ferry. The ferry consisted of a huge wooden platform with a gigantic white overhang that had 'Ymir Ferry' painted across it in deep blue letters.

The ferryboat was painted dark blue, with a white hull and a huge wheel that seemed to move on it's own. Even though it was listing in the water, the huge white wheel still spun in place, puffs of grey and white smoke coming from the silver turrets at the top of the ferry.

Coming to a halt, Noishe stopped in front of the ferry and sat down so the others could get off. Mithos jumped off Noishe, pulled his goggles up so they rested on his forehead and whistled at the huge ferry boat.

"Wow, that's really big and.... hey, wait a minute. Why didn't you lay down when I was trying to get on?!" Mithos annoyedly rounded on Noishe.

"Whine." Noishe replied and licked his face. Mithos frowned, but succumbed to the licking and laughed. Glancing over Noishe' shoulder, Mithos grinned at his sister and Kratos.

"Wasn't that just the best, you guys?" He beamed. "That was so much fun, I want to do that again really soon!"

Martel looked green and her hair fell in front of her face as she clutched her stomach, swaying from side to side. Kratos looked like he had swallowed a fist full of nails, his right arm holding his left shoulder. Both of them looked at each other, then at him and groaned.

".... what?" Mithos asked, blinking.

"Maybe later Mithos.." Martel whimpered as she walked towards the ferry, wobbling as she went and clutching the railing to steady herself. Kratos didn't reply, but instead just continued to mutter to himself about something to do with a 'cursed shoulder' and headed towards the ferry.

Mithos stood behind with Noishe, his eyes filled with complete confusion.

"What?!" He called after them, chasing them with Noishe on his heels.

..........

Me: Okay, Chapter Seven done. That was fun.

Mithos: Let's do that again!

Martel and Kratos: .......

Me:.... well anyway, please review and comment!


	9. Across the Sea

**Disclaimer: I do not own ToS. Only a copy of the game. Le sigh. Also, to those who've read, reviewed, commented and favorited this fic, a huge thanks goes out to all of you. You guys are awesome!**

Chapter Eight: Across the Sea

The first to reach the Ymir Ferry, Mithos touched down on the wooden platform and immediately started exploring the ferry bay. He bounced up and around the huge station, running from the edge of the stairs that led to the platform to the tip of the dock. After a few rounds of sprinting up and down the pier, Mithos skidded to a stop at the very edge of the dock that wobbled in the watery bay. Dropping to his knees, he gazed over the side and tilted his head. It was so deep he couldn't see the bottom, just an abyss of blue.

Letting out a whistle, Mithos felt a cool mist on his face and glanced up. The large ferry boat itself, still pumping out puffs of steam through the silver turrets mounted on it's top, listed gently back and forth in the dock. Every time it collided with the dock next to its pearly white hull, the water would jump up and mist the air, along with anyone else in the area. Mithos watched the huge steam boat pulse up and down in the water, just waiting to be let loose into the sea.

The three tiered ferry boat that sat precariously in the bay had a enormous white hull with a mahogany stained wooden deck. All along the side of the lowest deck sat shiny brass rails that went up to Mithos' chest and glistened in the sunlight. The second story above the railing had an array of wooden beams painted a royal blue and were adorned with expensive looking wood panels that lined the pillars. On the third floor, another set of brass railing bordered the ship and a tall box with thick glass windows sat near the front edge of the railing. Directly behind it, a pair of silver turrets stood erect, billowing out smoke and steam, coughing out a spray of water every now and again.

"Whoa... " Mithos let out a big breath as he stared at the gargantuan ship in front of him. Hearing another splash of the water, he shifted his eyes from the ship itself to the large wheel of the steam ferry slowly twirling on its axis behind it. Each creak of the wheel's motor sent more of the wooden wheel plunging back into the deep blue water and splashing steadily against the hull. As the wheel emerged on the other side, a curtain of water ran off the other side of the wheel's thick frame and rained on the sea below once again. Bending down again, he craned his neck around the side of the dock at the wheel and grinned toothily.

"You guys need to see this huge.. guys?" Mithos began as he looked up, but paused when he saw that neither Martel, nor Kratos were next to him. Frowning, he peered around the deck for any sign of them, but no luck. All he saw was Noishe, now bridle free, trot next to him and lick his face. Mithos grinned and petted Noishe's nose.

"Hey, Noishe. Did you see where Sis and Kratos went?" He asked, scratching Noishe between the ears.

"Whine." Noishe replied and slowly turned around. He then pointed like a champion bird dog to a far corner of the bay, ears flattened like a hawk's wings during a hunt. Mithos raised an eyebrow at Noishe's display, but stared hard anyway at where Noishe was pointing so intensely.

Sure enough, Martel and Kratos were standing next to the edge of the wooden platform, both seeming to be deep in conversation. Frowning slightly, Mithos brushed his blonde hair out of his face.

'Huh... what're they doing all the way out there... weird.' He murmured in the corner of his mind. Mithos then dashed up the dock once more and jogged over to where the two adult stood.

Martel, who'd finally gotten her stomach settled, along with Kratos, who'd managed to stave off the piercing sensation of his shoulder, lingered near the edge of the platform, talking in hushed tones. As he drew closer, he noticed that both of them looked better than they had when Noishe had stopped his sprint, but neither appeared to be very cheerful.

"Hey, whatcha talking about?" Mithos asked as he skidded to a stop in front of them. Martel looked over at Mithos and smiled.

"Good timing Mithos." She greeted him warmly with a hug, which Mithos happily returned. "We have some things we need to talk to you about before we get on board the ferry."

"What is it?" Mithos asked, his blue eyes wracked with curiosity. Martel's smile faded slightly and she patted the boy's head gently.

"It's about. well... we need to decide what we are going to say about ourselves." She replied. Mithos blinked.

"What about ourselves?" He asked curiously. Martel looked pained.

"She means that you are both going to need to decide whether or not to refer to yourselves as either 'humans' or 'elves'." Kratos explained, his arms folded and resting against his chest.

"But we're not-" Mithos began to protest, but Kratos held up a hand.

"I am perfectly aware of that, however... in circumstances such as this, it is wise to conceal yourselves. Humans don't generally tend to be very kind to others that are not one or the other."

Mithos frowned, staring intensely at the stoic swordsman.

"But... you don't care, so why do they-"

"Kratos may not be bothered by it Mithos, but just because that's so doesn't mean that the other humans won't be." Martel replied, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you don't like it but, please understand. We have to do this to stay safe." She then bent down and locked eyes with Mithos.

Mithos still looked like he wanted to protest, but after looking in Martel's eyes as she patted his shoulder, he could see how much she needed him to go along with it.

"Well... alright. Okay.. I'll do it, but I won't like it." He relented, letting out a sigh. "But... it's not fair. We shouldn't have to hide like this."

"I know. It's not fair." Martel agreed, standing back up. "But for now, we have to do what we can." She then turned her attention back to Kratos, who'd successfully stayed out of the sibling moment by giving Noishe a snack. He glanced up from the large animal and raised an eyebrow at the pair of them.

"Have you both come to an agreement as to what you shall be guising under?" He asked, Noishe munching on the treat as he stood next to his shoulder. Martel looked at Mithos and then back at Kratos.

"What do you think would be safest?" She asked. Kratos frowned and thought for a moment, sizing up the pair of them with a few glances.

"A good portion of half elves do tend to pose as full blooded ones if they have pointed ears, but in this circumstance, perhaps human would do well." He suggested. Mithos felt his rounded ears instinctively and nodded.

"Yeah.. that sounds like it would work the best." He agreed, looking up at Martel. "Sis, what do you think?" Martel rested her arms against her chest and sighed.

"Yes, that sounds the best right now." She said tiredly. Glancing over at the large ferry, she exhaled and brushed her green hair out of her face. Mithos looked over at the ferry as well and then it hit him.

"That's great and all about the whole plan, but how're we gonna get on that thing?" He asked, his head shifting back to look at his sister. "I bet it's really expensive and we don't have a way of getting on-"

"Leave that to me." Kratos interjected. Mithos raised an eyebrow at Kratos, who then matched it with his own.

"But how are you gonna-" He began, but Kratos walked by him without another word. Mithos watched him go and frowned.

"Fine, walk off....Y'know, you're gonna hafta talk sooner or later." He grumbled, his arms folded. Martel patted Mithos shoulder and smiled at him.

"He'll be back soon. Patience, Mithos." She reminded him. Mithos groaned.

"Patience.. I don't like patience, 'cause that means you have to wait." He sighed dejectedly. Still, he sat on the grass next to Noishe, who was about halfway through his snack. The furry protozoan looked over at Mithos, then at the half eaten cookie that laid on the grass in front of him. Picking the rest up in his mouth, he nosed Mithos in the cheek. Mithos glanced over at him and drew back when he found the cookie centimeters from his nose.

"Whine?" Noishe whined, offering the cookie. Mithos stared at the cookie and then at Noishe.

"Uh.. thanks, but I'm fine. You can have it." He replied smiling, scratching Noishe's ears. Noishe seemed to look like he wanted to shrug, since Mithos obviously didn't know what he was missing out on.

"Whine."

........

Mithos sighed, his cheek slumped over on the palm of his right hand. Kratos had left what seemed like an eon ago, but according to Martel, it had only been twenty minutes. Mithos had been pretty skeptical of her time report, but went back to staring at the clouds as they floated by in the sky.

"What do you think he's gonna do?" He asked Martel, not being able to stand the silence any longer. Martel leaned against Noishe and scratched his ears.

"I'm not entirely sure, but all we can do now is place faith in Kratos abilities." She replied warmly. Mithos nodded grudgingly, his blonde hair drifting in front of his face.

"Yeah, let's just hope he has the ability to get back soon-"

"Whine!" Noishe interrupted Mithos and started to wag his tail back and forth like a puppy. Mithos glanced up to see that Kratos was walking back across the platform towards them. Forgetting that he was annoyed at having to wait, Mithos bounced up from the ground and ran across the platform to meet him.

"What happened?" Martel asked from behind, her hands still petting Noishe. Kratos showed her four royal blue passes that had a strange set of writing on the tops and deposited them in his shirt pocket.

"We leave at sundown." He told them both, smoothly avoiding her question. "Best get what you need here if you require any other possessions." Mithos stared at the tips of the passes, as they peeked out from the shirt pocket. Martel smiled at Kratos and eyed a few of the other shops that lingered on the perimeter of the dock.

"Hm... I'm going to see if I can find some ingredients and such." She told Mithos as she dusted herself off. Mithos grinned and began to follow her.

"I'll come too, you'll need some help with it all-" He started in.

"It's just a short errand, so Mithos, why don't you stay with Kratos and Noishe for now?" Martel smiled at Mithos. "I'll be right back." Without another word, she then walked towards the shop, her mint hair bouncing behind her.

"Uh.. okay." Mithos nodded, a bit surprised. Martel always let him come along before without protest, so the idea that she didn't let him go left him at a loss. Still, he shrugged and looked back at Kratos, who was watching the ships pass by the ferry from the edge of the boarding dock. The older swordsman seemed completely engrossed by the ships gliding across the water. Mithos quietly crept towards Kratos, fascinated by his focus and silence.

"Um.. Hey, Kratos." He greeted gingerly, stepping next to the older man so they were parallel to each other.

"Mithos." Kratos nodded in reply, though he didn't look away from the boats.

"Whatcha doing?" Mithos asked, his body swaying back at forth while his hands were clasped behind his back. Kratos' head turned as a particularly large tugboat stormed through the water.

"Watching ships." He replied simply. Mithos craned his neck around to watch the tugboat speed off into the sea.

"Oh." Mithos brushed his hair out of his face. "Do you like boats?"

"No, not particularly." Kratos stated flatly. Mithos gave the swordsman an incredulous look.

'Then why are you watching them?' He asked himself crankily as he straightened up. He let out a sigh of exasperation and Kratos raised an eyebrow. Mithos noticed the eyebrow and looked back out at the boats. He sneakily looked out of the corner of his eye at Kratos, and quickly snapped it back when Kratos briefly glanced over at him, only to find himself watching the boats again. Once again, silence filled the air and Mithos fidgeted with his bracelets. He didn't like silence whatsoever and he had to say something, anything, before he exploded.

"Does your hair stick straight up on its own or do you do something to it?" He asked out of the blue, his eyes still on the boats. Kratos paused and stared at Mithos.

"... what?" He asked, his full attention on Mithos.

"Does your hair stick up by itself?" Mithos repeated, not at all shaken by Kratos' sudden attentiveness. "I've never seen hair like yours before. It's like gravity doesn't work on it or something." He then broke his gaze from the boats and looked at Kratos. Kratos, a bit taken aback, coughed into his fist, his cheeks pink, and resumed staring at the ships.

"..... it does it on it's own. I don't know why particularly." He replied after a moment of composing himself. "It just does."

"Oh." Mithos watched another boat, a fishing boat set off from the bay. "Funny. I thought you did something to it. Kinda odd it does it on it's own."

"... Quite."

"I'm back everyone." Mithos turned his head around to see Martel making her way down the dock towards them. In her arms, she held a few wrapped up bundles and she seemed to float down the pier, she was so happy.

"Hiya, Martel." Mithos grinned at her and rushed her with a hug. Martel hugged him back and smiled at Kratos, who nodded to her in acknowledgment.

"Did you get what you needed?" her younger brother asked curiously, eyes locked on the packages. Martel nodded and ruffled his hair with her free hand.

"Yes, I bought everything we need. All we need to do now is board the ferry." She replied cheerily. Kratos nodded in agreement and looked to the sky. An orange tinge painted the majority of the sky and flecks of red and yellow danced through like a fiery waltz.

"The captain instructed to board at sundown. We should do so." He stated, his eyes lingering on the samba of light as the sun struck a final pose. He then pulled out the passes he had pocketed and handed one each to Martel and Mithos.

"That's your ticket. Don't lose it." He instructed to both of them, though it was directed more at Mithos than his sister.

"Thank you." Mithos smiled and gripped the ticket tightly in his hand.

"I'll take good care of it." Martel assured him as well and Mithos stuffed the piece of paper into his pants pocket. Patting it once to make sure it was there, he nodded and trotted onto the boarding plank with the other passengers. The long line of passengers moved systematically, each showing their pieces of paper to the crotchety old man with a clipboard. Mithos watched the old man check off the people's tickets with a flick of his pencil and practically swallowed his tongue when it got to him.

The old man, who could have modeled for the design of an old bulldog, looked over his clipboard with black beadle eyes and snorted.

"Ticket." He said curtly in a raspy voice, his long wiry eyebrows arranged in a frown as he looked back down at his clipboard. Mithos reached into his pocket for the piece of paper Kratos had given him and blanched. It was gone.

"Kid, ticket?" The old man looked over the tip of the clipboard, arching an eyebrow that looked more like a fern by the second. Mithos began to pat himself down, desperately trying to find the ticket that he had so carefully put in his pocket.

"Gone... it's gone.." He panicked, his breath getting more haggard each inhale he took. The old man snorted again, his balding grey hair frizzing out of his holed out hat.

"Sorry kid, no ticket, no ferry. Rules are rules." He hoisted a thumb to the sign and shook his head. Mithos' eyes grew round as dinner plates and he swallowed hard.

"But-but I had my ticket, it's just-" He began to protest.

"Move it kid, you're blockin' the way!" The old man snapped at him sharply and swung the clipboard at him, which made Mithos recoil. "No ticket, no ride kid. Now get outta the-"

"Is there a problem?"

A hand placed itself on Mithos' shoulder and both the old man and Mithos' heads swiveled around to see Kratos standing right behind him, Martel peering over his shoulder.

"Yeah, this kid's blockin' the way." The old man gruffed and hooked a thumb over at Mithos. "Keeps sayin' he's got a ticket, but didn't have it so-"

"You mean this ticket?" Kratos asked as he produced the crumpled royal blue pass and handed it to Mithos. Mithos' eyes widened as he shakily grasped onto the ticket and felt his heart flip in his chest.

"It had fallen onto the dock as he boarded the plank." He replied smoothly as he raised an eyebrow. "Surely a lost ticket does not merit corporal punishment via a clipboard." The old man snarled and glared at both Kratos and then to Mithos, who was near to kissing the wrinkly ticket he'd dropped.

"Yeah, yeah.... ticket." He grumbled at Mithos. Mithos grinned gratefully at Kratos and showed the cantankerous old coot the pass. The old man glanced up at the pass to check it off, but paused when he saw the ticket that Mithos held up. He squinted, which told Mithos he couldn't see very well, and leaned in at the ticket. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he straightened up as tall as he could.

"Right then. You may board." He said, uncharacteristically serious and attentive to his clipboard. Mithos stared incredulously at his newfound personality and, keeping an eye on the odd old man the whole time, scrambled on board.

The mahogany deck of the ferry glistened in the waxing twilight while purple and blue swirled around the edges of the deck. Pinpricks of white and silver began to show in the sky, while the sun had made it's final curtain call for the day. Running over to the side, Mithos peered over the side of the railing and watched the waves gently tickle the hull of the boat.

Letting out a huge breath of relief, Mithos flopped against the railing, his chin resting on the top bar.

'Man... Kratos saved me again.' He let out another breath. 'Talk about great timing. Who knows what that guy would have done. He coulda thrown me off the plank or even worse.' Mithos head shot up.

'Wait... would I have had to walk it? Like one of those stories Martel told me about?' His eyes widened as he thought. 'I mean, who knows how deep that is and it's not even summer and wouldn't that get cold? And...' Mithos shuddered.

'Cold, wet clothes are horrible.' He exhaled and looked up at the debuting stars for a moment. There were only about two at the time that he could see, so he shifted his gaze back to the boarding deck.

Since he'd been one of the last to board, Mithos easily spotted Martel showing her ticket to the old man and walking onto the deck, her hands still laden with the bundles she'd purchased earlier. The old man, to Mithos' surprise, was surprisingly polite to her and then resumed profusely apologizing to Kratos, who had his arms folded and resting against his chest, eyebrow raised and all. Noishe then showed his own pass, the small piece of paper clutched in his teeth, and paraded onto the deck after Martel.

After the few remaining passengers boarded, the old man took the plank down, made a circling motion with his finger in the air and the ferry began to pile out grey smoke out of the top turrets. With a huge groan of the wheel, the ferry turned and broke away from the pier.

Since the other few passengers had gone inside the main building in the center of the ferry for the night, Martel was free to wander about the deck in search of a good place. She eventually found one, a bench near the bow of the ship, and sat down, placing her bundles next to her on the bench's seat. Since Mithos was at the bow of the ship, and about three feet away from her, Martel smiled at him happily and closed her eyes, yawning into her hand. Noishe sat at her feet, his frond like ears waving back and forth, and yawned as well.

Mithos grinned back at her and noticed that Kratos was walking towards them, his left hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Hi Kratos." Mithos beamed at him when he finally stopped next to Mithos at the edge of the railing. Kratos looked over at Mithos and sighed.

"Mithos, dropping your pass was careless." He said, his hair falling into his face as he looked out onto the ocean. "You were fortunate that I came across it at all. Had I not, you would have been thrown off."

Mithos sheepishly scratched the back of his head and looked up at Kratos guiltily.

"I didn't mean to. It was an accident and....." He began, but cut himself off when he noticed Kratos' hard stare. He sighed and looked back down at the water.

"....I'm sorry. I'll be really careful next time and I won't lose it." His voice and shoulders drooped. Kratos glanced at the crestfallen boy and then shifted his gaze towards the night sky.

"As long as you've learned something, then I suppose it isn't a complete misfortune." He replied after a while. "Just don't do it again."

"Okay." Mithos nodded, his arms folded over the railing and his head resting on his wrists. A deep silence filled the air, with only the echo of the waves slamming against the gliding ferry sounding through the night. Mithos closed his eyes briefly, and then slowly blinked them a few times. Kratos merely continued his staring contest with the night sky and Martel seemed to be braiding some of Noishe's fur.

"Hey, Kratos?" Mithos finally broke the silence, tilting his head to the side and looking at the swordsman. "Can I ask you something?" Kratos looked over at him from the corner of his eye.

"Regardless of what I say, you'll ask anyway, correct?" He asked, eyebrow raised. The blonde boy thought for a minute, his yellow hair drifting across his forehead.

".. yeah." Mithos nodded after a moment. Kratos sighed and looked ahead again.

"Go ahead." He replied tiredly, his left hand still resting gently on the hilt of his sword while his right arm laid on the brass guardrails. Mithos beamed and crossed his arms behind his back.

"How old are you?" He asked. Kratos raised an eyebrow, though he was still focused on the ocean and the stars.

"..26." He said, his tone curt. "Why do you ask?" Mithos shrugged.

"I dunno. Just curious." He said grinning. "And how tall are you?"

"6'2."

"Wow... you're tall." Mithos stared at the older man. "I wish I were that tall."

"Oh? Why would you want to be that tall, Mithos?" Martel asked, her head peeking around from the side of the large braided arshis. Mithos looked at her and grinned.

"So I could reach all the stuff on the top shelf and you wouldn't have to get a stool." He replied happily. "Plus, being tall is way better than being short. Being called 'shrimp' stinks." He stuffed his hands into his pant's pockets.

Martel smiled and tilted her head to the side.

"But what about doorways? You'd have to duck more." She pointed out. Mithos paused; he hadn't thought of that.

"That's okay, I can duck." He bounced back from his thoughts. "But I know how to solve that."

"Oh?" Both Martel and Kratos asked at the same time.

"Yep." Mithos nodded, grinning as he put his fists on his hips. "I'd make the doors taller. And I'd get rid of chandeliers and ceiling lamps too. Too much of a risk."

Mithos beamed triumphantly at his own idea, Martel laughed and even Kratos had to fight to keep back a small smile. Grinning, Mithos' face shot back at Kratos.

"Martel's 21 and I'm gonna be twelve in a week." He added happily, his hands clasped on the brass beam as he leaned against the rail.

"When's your birthday?" Mithos' eyes shone with adoration as he continued to pester Kratos for information, not out of an urge to being annoying, but rather fascination with the strange man that had rescued him. Kratos looked at Mithos briefly and then to the vast sea that stretched in front of them.

"Midwinter." He replied, his hair falling into his face.

"Are you a Shadow?" Mithos asked, practically bouncing at that point. Kratos glanced at Mithos, eyebrow raised.

"Pardon?"

"Shadow. It's a sign from the Elven religion." Martel replied as she rubbed Noishe's ears. "As a tribute to the summon spirits, Origin, the king of the summon spirits, gave times of the year to each of the summon spirits to rule over symbolically. Midwinter was the time of the year given to Shadow, so if you were born during that time, you would be a 'Shadow'."

"Yeah, it affects personality traits and tells you all kinds of stuff." Mithos added cheerily. "It also tells people all about themselves, and what lies in the future. It's kinda more complicated than that, but I don't know all the details."

"I see." Kratos said as he peered out at the watery depths of the ocean. "I had heard that elves were greatly in tune with the summon spirits, more so than humans, but I was unaware that it spanned so far."

"It does and it also tells you who you'd be able to marry too!" Mithos piped up happily. "Y'know, if it'd work out and stuff." Martel laughed and ran a hand through her hair. Kratos raised an eyebrow at her and then looked back to Mithos.

"Ah." Kratos replied quietly. A faint trace of a smile hinted on his face, but he quickly hid it away. Mithos noticed and grinned. He was thrilled he got a reaction out of his new idol, and even if it was small, he didn't care. He got Kratos to almost smile and that was enough to celebrate over.

Looking around, Mithos noticed that he had only explored one half of the ferry and hadn't gotten to the other side. Since he didn't know when he'd be back, if he'd be back, he figured that the best time to explore it was right then.

"I'll be right back, okay?" He grinned at both of them, wandering away from the guardrail. Martel looked up from her place on the bench and looked at Mithos with a raised eyebrow.

"Where are you going?" She asked, moving her bundles into her lap. Mithos stretched and pointed to the far side of the boat.

"Just for a walk is all. I'll be right back." He yawned as he trotted off down the deck.

"Don't go too far!" Martel called after him as Mithos wandered back down the path. Watching him go, she smiled and readjusted herself against the back of the bench. Kratos still stood at the railing, now leaning against it with his back to Martel.

"Summon spirits... hm." He mused quietly to himself, the ocean misting around his shoulders and cape.

...

Mithos walked down the now empty deck, hands shoved into his pockets. With the exception of Martel and Kratos near the bow of the ship, the entire platform was completely barren of people. Mithos looked from left to right as he sauntered down the shiny floor, blowing his blonde bangs out of his face every so often. As he walked by towards the stern of the ferryboat, Mithos noticed a lone porthole that sat right in the center of the stern's deck.

"Huh?... that's weird." He frowned at it curiously and trotted over to the grey porthole that glistened in the moonlight. Though he didn't know much about boats, he thought it was odd that a porthole would just be sitting by itself in the middle of a deck. Once he was close enough to it, Mithos stretched out a hand and gently flicked the metal with his middle finger and thumb. A clang sounded off the top of the porthole where he'd struck it and echoed down into the depths of the ship.

Suddenly, a loud bang thundered through the porthole and Mithos reeled in shock, landing sharply on the grating of the stern's deck. Clouds of white smoke shot through the porthole and covered the deck for a moment. When the smoke lifted, it revealed an oddly dressed man, one wearing a green vest, white shirt, what appeared to be a red cape and a tall, white hat with a 'W' embossed on the front. Though, he seemed to be halfway stuck inside the porthole and was wriggling, trying to get fully out of the piping.

"No, no, not again..... okay, and push...." He seemed to be coaching himself as he tried tugging himself out of the porthole, but it was no use. He was stuck around the curve of the pipe. Mithos watched incredulously as he sat on the deck, his rear still stinging, but he couldn't take his eyes away from the weird guy who was stuck in a porthole.

"Alright, well... at least nobody saw..." The guy pushed his hat and yellow bangs out of his face to see that Mithos was staring at him.

"... great.. well, so much for my dramatic entry." He groaned and readjusted his hat.

"I am the mysterious gourmet, the Wonder Chef!" The man said, flailing his arms about, as they were about the only thing not lodged in the porthole. "I shall teach you the recipe for Rice Balls!"

Reaching into his green breast pocket of his vest, the weirdie pulled out a card and held it out for Mithos. Mithos didn't move, his eyes still locked on the strange spectacle in front of his face, not quite sure what to do.

"Hey, you gonna take it or what?" The 'Wonder Chef' asked, waving the card up and down. "I don't have all night, y'know."

Shaking his head, Mithos snapped himself out of his stupor and gingerly took the card. Looking triumphant, the 'Wonder Chef' tipped his hat back with a flick of his thumb.

"Rice Balls require only one ingredient: Rice." He reported. Mithos looked down at the card and then at the Wonder Chef.

"Yeah, I kinda figured." He replied bluntly. The Wonder Chef snorted and shook his head, turning his attention back to the porthole.

"Right. Now... to get out of here we.. push?" He tried pushing and then Mithos heard something slip. So did the Wonder Chef.

Eyes widening, the Wonder Chef shot back down the pipe, and out of sight, a small cloud of smoke following him down.

"Fareweeeellllllll....." His voice echoed through the piping, though it was cut off by a dull thud.

"... Ow."

Mithos stood there, card in hand, gently folded it up, and put it in his pants pocket. He blinked a few times and then, turning on his heel, dashed for the bow of the ship.

"MARTEL!" He yelled, running across the deck as fast as his legs could carry him. Martel's head snapped back to Mithos and Kratos looked over his shoulder at the erratic boy.

"Marteltheresaloonyinaporthole!" Mithos gasped for air, his hand on his chest. Martel held up a hand.

"Mithos, take a breath and say it slowly so we can all understand you." She coached gently. Mithos took a deep breath and relaxed his grip on his shirt.

"Martel, there's a loony in a porthole!" He exclaimed, his arms waving about. Martel and Kratos both blinked.

".. A looney.. in a porthole?" His sister asked.

"Come on, before he gets away!" He pulled her arm and pointed down the path. "This way!"

....

"There's no one in there." Kratos reported as he looked down the porthole. "Just shadow."

"But he was in there, he's gotta be in there!" Mithos insisted, pointing down the porthole. "He was stuck in there and ruined his entrance! He even had on a weird hat and gave me a Rice Ball Recipe and everything!"

"Mithos, are you sure you didn't just imagine him?" Martel asked as she joined them both at the porthole. "You do have an active imagination and that was probably what you saw."

"No, he was real and I can prove it!" Mithos replied, shoving a hand into his pants pocket. "I have the recipe right here....." Mithos blanched.

"Aw... not twice in one day... look, you gotta believe me, he was here!" He pointed to the porthole again. Kratos looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

"See, you probably just thought you saw someone and it was just a shadow." Martel replied. "Now, you should get some rest-"

"There was a guy in there! A guy with a big weird hat and he gave me this piece of paper with a recipe on it and then fell down the porthole with a puff of smoke!" Mithos pointed to the now empty porthole, arm shaking as he did. "I swear there was a guy in there and-"

"Mithos, you probably were just tired and imagined it. Why don't you sit down and go to sleep?" Martel suggested gently as she steered him back towards the bow of the ship.

"But Martel, there was a guy in there, I swear! I didn't make it up! There was a weird guy in that thing and he tried jumping out at me, but he got stuck and-" He protested, but Martel sat him down on the bench, covered him up with a blanket and put his head on her shoulder.

"You can tell me about it tomorrow. Sleep now." She told him gently, draping her arm around his shoulder and patting his head. Feeling thoroughly defeated, Mithos let out a sigh and nodded, closing his eyes.

"... okay... but... there was a... guy...." Mithos trailed off, his head drooping on her shoulder.

Meanwhile, Kratos still stood next to the porthole that the strange man had gotten lodged in and watched it with a fixed eye. He sighed, shaking his head once and made to leave, but a glimmer of white caught his eye and made him pause. Looking down, Kratos saw that a piece of paper had been caught between the grating that covered the stern's deck. He picked it up and unfolded it gently so as not to rip it.

"..... Recipe for Rice Balls."

He stared long and hard at the recipe card, folded it back up and then tucked it into his shirt pocket. Giving the porthole one more glare, Kratos turned and walked back towards the bow of the ship, his long cape billowing behind him.

.........

**Me: Yes, chapter done! *pumps fist in the air***

**Mithos: Don't you need sleep?**

**Me: .... Zzzz.... *asleep at computer***

**Mithos: ... too late. Please review and comment!**


	10. Sudden Transitions

**Author's note: I have returned, MacArthur style! I apologize for my lack of updating this fic as of late, but I promised myself I would catch up my other fic, A Problem of Pediatric Proportions, first, so now that I have, let the posting commence!**

**Also, thank yous to all of you who favorited, alerted and such for this fic, along with grateful thanks to book-sage and all of you who reviewed this fic in the previous chapters!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ToS last time I checked, because if I did, there would be a joyous parade of one down the street.**

Chapter Nine: Sudden Transitions

As the dawn of the new day peeked up out of the water, the royal blue ferryboat chugged along merrily, its hull cleaving the deep sea water in two as it progressed. Mist lapped up over the sides of the deck and stained the pristine wooden deck with sea water, much like morning dew on grass. As the dew began to collect about the ship's bow and surfaces, a long stream of water ran down the top of the peaked roof of the ferry's main tower and trickled down the gutter until it reached the very tip of the iron water trough. Once the water had filled the gutter completely, a drop of ice cold dew hurtled down off the gutter, through the air and struck the blonde half elf, who had been sleeping peacefully next to his sister, squarely in the nose.

".. uh?" Mithos peeked an eye open and groggily rubbed the water off of his nose. The cold drop of condensation had stung his nose and numbed it upon impact, which made the boy only rub it harder in an attempt to get it to feel again.

"Stinking water... getting my nose all cold... why is it always the nose?" He grumbled to himself, though he made sure it wasn't loud enough to wake his sister. He sat up gingerly, as the night on the bench had made the poor boy's back stiff as a rail and yawned tiredly.

'.. rgh... what a night..' He sighed to himself, shaking his head as he had gotten a crick in his neck. 'Still, it beats a lot of alternatives. Like being a slave for one or dead for two.' Once he'd managed to massage the cramp out of his neck, Mithos sat back against the back of the bench and debated whether or not going back to sleep was a good idea.

'Maybe... just a few more minutes.' His voice drifted in his mind and soon became hazy at best. 'Few... more minutes.....'

"Good, you're awake." A voice commented from off to the side, which in turn made Mithos jump out of his half conscious stupor. Blinking in shock, the slender boy turned his head sharply to see that Kratos was leaning against the side of the railing, his arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression painted on his face.

'Well, there went my sleeping option.' Mithos sighed as he eyed the stoic swordsman. Yawning, he gracelessly waved hello to the older man, and sleepily gazed over at him, his eyes still half lidded and foggy.

"G-good morning." Mithos yawned again, stretching his arms. "Why are you up so early? Don't you need sleep?" The stoic swordsman regarded Mithos for a moment and then shifted his gaze back to the sea.

"I have conditioned myself so I require little rest." He responded curtly, his auburn hair drifting into his face. Yawning once more, Mithos rubbed his eyes and stood up from his spot next to Martel.

"Oh.. o-okay." Mithos stifled a fourth yawn and gingerly walked over to the brass railing, gripping it for support since he still wasn't fully awake. The only reason he had gotten up himself was because he figured that there was no way Kratos would have let him drift back to sleep without him siccing Noishe on him or something to that degree.

'It's best to stay on his good side... if he has a good side, that is.' Mithos thought tiredly to himself, trying to stave off his early morning crankiness. Kratos didn't seem the type to deal with insolence leniently and he didn't feel like finding out first hand how he did deal with such attitude.

"So, uh, how long have you been awake?" Mithos asked, taking a stab at conversation. Kratos glanced over at the half elf boy, raised an eyebrow and turned his eyes back to the ocean.

"Perhaps an hour or so." He responded flatly. Blinking, Mithos rubbed an eye and tilted his head to the side.

"What were you doing while everyone was asleep?" He asked curiously as he patted down his messed hair. Kratos eyed the boy again and pointed to the gigantic mass of green and white fur that occupied the space directly underneath the bench where the pair of half elves had spent the night.

"Nothing in particular. I fed Noishe, though he will demand more food once he reawakens." The swordsman replied offhandedly.

"Oh." Mithos reached down a hand to feel the plush fur, but when the heap of fur shifted suddenly, he drew his hand back. However, when mass known as Noishe sat up, Mithos was instantly greeted with a whine and a happy slurp to the face. Noishe' cold wet nose then pressed itself against the boy's cheek and a white and green ear flopped heavily on the top of his head. Noishe stood at the ready, yawning from his departure from his nap, and stretched, rubbing his head on Mithos' shoulder. Happy to see the gargantuan animal awake, Mithos patted the protozoan's head, but was snorted at angrily when the animal stared into his palm and then up at his face pointedly.

"What? Don't you want petted?" The boy asked confusedly, which resulted in a heated 'Whine' from Noishe. Glancing over at Noishe's display, Kratos rolled his eyes in exasperation and raised an eyebrow at Mithos, who was trying to stop Noishe from sticking a nose into his pockets.

"He wants you to feed him." Kratos stated curtly to the half elf as he reached into his pouch pocket. After searching for a moment, the spiky haired human pulled out what looked like a clear bag filled with small round discs and pulled one out.

"Here." He tossed one of the discs at Mithos. "It's a biscuit. That is what he wants." Mithos fumbled the biscuit as he attempted to catch it, which earned another raised eyebrow from the stoic swordsman, but he quickly picked it back up and eyed the biscuit warily.

"Are you sure he wants me to give him this thing?" Mithos asked. "It doesn't look all that appetizing to me."

"Then it's a good thing it is not you who is destined to eat it." Kratos replied stiffly, gesturing for him to give it to Noishe. Noishe, all the while, sat on pins and needles, just waiting for the biscuit to come his way, his tail pounding heavily on the slick deck of the ferry. Mithos, still not convinced that Noishe really wanted it, shrugged and gingerly held it out for the furry creature. He had seen Noishe eat something similar the day before, but still. It didn't look incredibly delicious by his standards.

"Uh.. here you go, Noishe." He offered the cookie to the protozoan. "I don't know if you want it, but you can have- EEAAGH!"

Noishe had clamped his mouth over Mithos' hand up to his forearm and proceeded to drool over the boy's arm. Overtaken by shock and horror, Mithos froze like a rabbit in a fox den before he regained his senses and, with an almighty yank, wrenched his hand out of the protozoan's maw, cookieless and soaked.

"Whine." Noishe beamed a thank you as he munched on his cookie, happy as could be that he got two breakfasts that day. Mithos, on the other hand, was less than thrilled as he inspected his spit ridden arm. The dog like animal had not left any teeth marks or broken the skin since he hadn't used his fangs, but the skin up to Mithos elbow was drenched in thick Noishe saliva that clung to it like muck on the trunk of a rain soaked tree.

"... ew..." Mithos grimaced in disgust at his slobber covered hand and arm, the slime dripping down off his fingers and soaking the ground. Kratos distastefully glanced at Mithos' disgustingly slimy hand and shot a glare at Noishe. Noishe, however, was quite content with himself as he snacked on his cookie, not caring in the slightest that Kratos was sending an intense wave of disapproval his way.

Shaking his head in irritation, Kratos put the bag of treats back into his pouch and shut the leather flap's lid with a flick of the latch.

"I apologize. He has never had the best of manners when it comes to boundaries." The swordsman sighed, eying his green and white companion, who barked as if he was indignantly saying 'Hey!'. Mithos tore his eyes away from his slobber infested limb and nodded weakly.

"... Yeah. He's very friendly." Mithos patted the back of Noishe's head and rubbed it back and forth with his non slimy hand. However, when he reached the base of Noishe's neck, the half elf boy paused and tilted his head in, patting it again.

"Huh.. that's weird.." Mithos muttered as he lifted up Noishe's neck fur and began to pan around it like he had dropped a thread in a bundle of yarn. Eyebrow raised, the silent swordsman observed the half elf, more intrigued than he would have liked to admit.

"What is it?" Kratos asked, watching the boy with an inkling of curiosity as to what he might be doing around Noishe's neck like that. Mithos glanced up at Kratos, pointed to Noishe's ruff of white and green fur and turned back to it.

"There's no collar." Mithos said in astonishment as he continued to rifle through Noishe's neck fur in search of one. "I thought all pets were supposed to have collars so people can tell whose they are."

"Ah." The human swordsman responded flatly, folding his arms once again over his chest. "There is a very good reason for that. Noishe is not my pet."

"Oh." Mithos blinked and felt Noishe's neck again. "Then is he a work animal for you or something?"

"No." Kratos shook his head once, spikes of auburn drifting over his left eye. "I do not own Noishe. He is merely my companion."

"Oh." Mithos looked back at Noishe, who yipped at him delightfully with a mouthful of cookie. Suddenly, Mithos felt very embarrassed and ashamed at calling Noishe a pet and a work animal. Peering out of the corner of his eye, the half elf looked sheepishly at him and patted his head.

"Sorry, Noishe. I didn't know." He apologized, scratching the protozoan behind the ears. Noishe, who had just finished his cookie, whined in reply and lovingly nuzzled Mithos in the face, his icy nose grazing the boy's cheek.

"I believe that means you are forgiven, though I am merely paraphrasing." Kratos commented to the pair coolly. Turning his eyes back to the railing, he brought his arms so they rested against his chest in a fold, but paused when something in his shirt pocket gained his attention. Glancing down, Kratos reached into his pocket and retrieved a small paper from his breast pocket. Kratos then flicked it open, read the card and nodded once, folding it once more.

"Mithos." he called over to the boy, who was deep in an intensive petting session with the protozoan, who in turn had splayed himself all over the deck, his stomach in the air. Taken a bit aback, Mithos ceased his rubbing of Noishe and stared at Kratos, perplexed. Noishe craned his head up as well, not because he cared about what Kratos was holding, but rather why Mithos had stopped.

"You dropped this." Kratos held out the piece of paper to Mithos, who stared in confusion as it. Wiping his hand on his pant leg from where all of the fur from Noishe had shed during the intensive petting, Mithos took the paper from Kratos and stared down at it.

"... hey, wait.. This is the thing that loon gave me!" The boy exclaimed, his eyes resting on the weird little chef hat insignia with a 'W' blazoned on the rim. Beaming, Mithos jumped into the air in triumph, the card held high over his head.

"I knew it, I knew I saw him!" He cheered. "I even have proof now!" Shaking his head at Mithos' newfound excitement over a simple piece of paper, Kratos sighed and let some of his auburn hair fall into his face.

"It was as you said. That is, in fact, a recipe for Rice Balls." The older swordsman stated calmly as he watched the boy practically do a victory dance in the middle of the deck. Stopping on a dime, Mithos whirled around and stared at the older man he considered to be his idol, who had turned his eyes back to the ocean below.

"So you believe me?" The boy asked hopefully, his eyes shining with admiration. Kratos snorted and glanced back at the sea.

"I'm not sure if 'believe' is the correct word, but I will withhold judgment until further notice." He replied stiffly. Mithos' happy expression faded to be replaced by a frown and stuffed the recipe unceremoniously into his pants pocket.

"I still saw him..." Mithos protested quietly, but his voice trailed off when he noticed Kratos' flat glare that had been issued towards him. The deadpan expression Kratos had sent his way had taken all of the wind out of his sails, leaving him feeling very silly and childish. Silence then filled the early morning air, while Mithos and Kratos both watched the sea slosh along the hull of the ferry as it chugged its way through the water towards the encroaching land ahead, Mithos unsure of what to say, and Kratos not wanting to say anything anyway.

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Once the ferry finally docked in the bay, Martel had already woken up and gotten everything together and safely tucked away in her pack. Though at the start of her day, she had expressed much in the way of concern as to why Mithos was covered in Noishe's fur and had a rather wet patch one the rim of his sleeve.

'I'm just glad I could convince her I wasn't turning into Noishe.' Mithos sighed, holding Martel's hand, as he waited for the crew to let the passengers off the boat. 'Martel in the morning makes no sense sometimes.' They had stood in line for the good part of an hour and there was only so much time that a boy could wait in one place before he began to grow anxious.

"When are they gonna let us off?" Mithos asked, practically itching to dive off the side of the boat if it would speed things up faster.

"Patience." Kratos replied curtly. "They will when they will." Mithos glowered at the deck and sighed.

"Doesn't make it any easier to wait.." He grumbled, but a firmly placed squeeze on his hand made the boy jump and stare up at his smiling sister.

"I'm sure they will let us off soon, Mithos." She replied cheerily. "But in the meantime, we should do our best to deal with the antsy feelings that I believe everyone is feeling right now." She tapped his nose affectionately and turned her attention back to the docking board that the crew were setting into place. Feeling a little chagrined over Martel calling him on exactly what was bugging him, Mithos grinned sheepishly up at her and kept his peace, though he could barely stand it.

"Alright, all that are off, be off!" One of the crewman, a gruff older man with a patch of black hair on the top of his head called to the passengers who crowded around the dock.

"Finally." Mithos let out a breath of relief as he saw the other passengers slowly file down the makeshift docking board and out onto the port. "I thought I was gonna explode."

"I'm very proud of you, Mithos." Martel beamed at him, giving his hand another squeeze. "You did very well at waiting so long." She then looked back at Kratos and smiled at him as well.

"Don't you think so, Kratos?" She asked encouragingly. Kratos glanced down at Mithos, observed him a minute and then turned his gaze upward at the sky.

".. Hmph. It was an improvement." he eventually relented, though it sounded very restrained. Without another word, the human strode down the plank and onto the port, Noishe gracefully at his heels, fluffy white and green tail dusting the dock behind him as he wagged it. Martel followed suit, which just led Mithos alone on the deck of the ship. Sighing tiredly, the boy brushed his hair out of his face and groaned to the clouds above, his shoulders heavy like lead.

'Am I ever gonna get any praise out of that guy?' Mithos asked himself piteously as he trotted behind Kratos, his cloak billowing behind him like a sheet on a clothesline.

At the very edge of the dock, a group of men, all wearing red and silver uniforms with matching leather, stood in a straight formation of three by three. Mithos tilted his head over at them and pointed them out to both of the adults that accompanied his sides.

"Hey, what are those guys?" Mithos asked Kratos as he brushed up against the older man's sleeve. Raising an eyebrow, Kratos boredly looked in the direction that Mithos had pointed and his eyes narrowed underneath the curtain of auburn which adorned his face. Kratos then ceased his strides down the large dock that led to the main port and silently observed the group of soldiers, his hand unconsciously at his sword.

"Hm... strange. What is a group of Tethe'allan soldiers doing outside of a battle field..." He mused aloud. Martel eyed them all as well and shook her head.

"Are they perhaps on a break?" She asked.

"No." Kratos shook his head. "That is not something that happens very often. If they were given leave, the entire platoon would have been sent back to Meltokio by now."

"Meltokio?" Mithos repeated, having snaked his way up behind Kratos and peeked around the man's leather cape.

"Meltokio is the capitol of the country of Tethe'alla." Kratos replied curtly. "That is the country in which you live." Mithos nodded disgruntledly and rubbed his nose with his sleeve.

"I know that. There are two countries, Sylvarant and Tethe'alla." He replied resentfully. Kratos nodded in response as he continued to observe the lingering troops, completely ignoring the resentment Mithos had thrown at him.

"Then you know about the war zone around here, then." He stated coolly, watching the fighters as they flitted about the port.

Mithos blinked.

"War?"

Kratos paused in mid motion like a statue and stared down incredulously at Mithos, not sure if he heard quite right. Noticing his stare, Martel moved in front of Mithos and smiled embarrassedly at him.

"He doesn't really know much about that." She replied, her cheeks pink. "You see, the elves didn't really... like to admit there is a war going on to anyone and so no one is really told of it."

"Really?" Mithos asked, snaking his head around Martel's side. "How did you hear about it?"

"I overheard some old elves talking about it once when I was doing laundry." Martel responded. "I don't know a lot of the details, but it is not lovely by any means."

"That is all that most people know." Kratos interjected coolly, his eyes still resting upon the gang of soldiers. "You need not feel embarrassed." Folding his arms, the human then turned his gaze back to the pair of half elves.

"However, it is of little importance right now. Let us proceed." Brushing a bit of dirt off of his cape, Kratos then strode up the dock and past the soldiers, who all oddly stood erect and stationary when he moved past them.

"He's right, Mithos. Let's go." Martel patted the boy's shoulder and walked after Kratos. Mithos lingered behind for a moment, letting what Kratos said sink in, but in the end wandered after the other two adults as they left the port, letting the whole thing fly from his thoughts.

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"Woo, this is fun!!" Mithos shouted joyously to the sky while the three travelers clung to Noishe as he raced down the path again at full tilt. Traveling by Noishe did have some definite perks, such as the amount of ground they could gain in such a short amount of time, but for those who had a rather strong motion sickness problem, it was a bit more of a challenge to overcome.

"How're you doing back there, Martel?" Mithos called as he craned his neck around Kratos' arm to see his sister. Martel clung just as desperately to Kratos' torso as she had before, but at least she didn't have such a green tinge to her face as she did the first time she traveled on Noishe.

"I'm... I'm okay." She responded over the wind, her voice wobbling as she tried to maintain her vision. " What about.. you, Mithos?" Mithos held his hands in the air and beamed.

"This is awesome!" He called into the air happily, his blonde hair whipping about his face. Martel nodded to her brother's jubilant laughs of glee, but still focused more on not falling off the speeding creature and not suffer vertigo at the same time.

Kratos, who once again sat between them, sighed, firmly brought the boy's arms down with his spare hand and shook his head once.

"It is unwise for you to do that." He told the boy stiffly. "You will lose your balance and fall."

"Oh.. okay." Mithos nodded and turned ahead, his hands gripping the fur around Noishe's neck. Approving slightly over Mithos' change of pose, Kratos regained his view of the road and narrowed his eyes, though they were obscured by his hair and wind goggles. Mithos watched the highway a while, before he yawned and looked back at Kratos.

"So, where are we going?" He asked curiously. "We can't just be wandering around aimlessly right?"

"The destination is a small town that is roughly a day's walk from Meltokio." The older swordsman replied as he turned Noishe sharply to the right. Noishe veered gracefully, leaping over a particularly large boulder, and dashed down the sloped hill that stretched over the path.

"Why are we going there?" Mithos continued, his goggled gaze fixed on the spiky haired human. Kratos was silent, his eyes still focused heavily on the road.

"I have a job to which I must attend." He finally replied curtly. His eyes lighting up, Mithos beamed at the road ahead of him, his hand still curled in Noishe's fur.

"A job, huh? Sounds like fun." The boy chirped. "Where is the town you talked about?" Kratos looked skeptical at the thought of the job he had to do necessarily being 'fun', but he pointed over a particularly large hill to a small cluster of houses which were surrounded by a wooden gate.

"It's over there." He reported. "The Southern Hamlet." Mithos craned his neck over the lengthy ears of Noishe and stared in avid interest.

"We're going to stop in a moment." Kratos stated, gripping the bridle with one hand and steadying Mithos with the other. "Be careful." Martel nodded from behind him and held on tightly, which squished the healing wound on his back like a paper in a stamping press. The sensation of the wound squishing made Kratos cringe and inadvertently pull the reins down, which in turn led Noishe to believe that they were supposed to go faster.

"W-whoa!" Mithos yelped as Noishe picked up his speed and sprinted up the hill with all he could muster. Leaping into the air like a bird in flight, Noishe soared through the sky and screeched to a halt at the stubby and old wooden fence that surrounded the hamlet. Yawning and flipping his ears to the side, the protozoan suddenly sat down so everyone could get off safely and rested his head on his purple paws, thoroughly exhausted from his ending dash. Mithos popped right off Noishe and hit the dirt hard, but bounced straight back up and grinned at the sunny sky.

"Wow, what a beautiful day!" He breathed, taking it all in. "It's just amazing." Swiveling around, Mithos beamed back at the other two, Kratos who was helping Martel off of the protozoan's back and Martel, who was trying to get her land legs back without passing out.

"How are you faring?" The swordsman asked her as she gingerly stood up. Martel looked down at herself momentarily and brushed her hair from her face.

"I'm... I'm alright." She replied warmly. "I think I'm getting better when riding on Noishe. Are you alright?"

Kratos fleetingly looked over his shoulder before he swiftly nodded.

"Yes. I am fine." He returned. Smiling, the mint haired half elf then pulled off her goggles and gave them back to Kratos, thanking him again for letting them ride Noishe. Mithos mimicked her, by handing back his own pair and thanking him, though he was a little more reluctant to see his own pair of goggles go.

'I wish I could keep those..' He sighed to himself.

"Ah, Lord Kratos, we've been expecting you."

A voice, one that was raspy and worn thin by years of talking loudly, caused Mithos to almost jump out of his skin. Wheeling around, Mithos saw a older, kind looking man with nubby, pointed ears, a mat of brown hair on his head that was messily pulling into a ponytail, and a hunched over back from years of hard labor, a knot ridden stick tightly clenched in his hand. Kratos, not surprised at all, nodded to the man instead in greeting.

'He's... he's a half elf... like me..' Mithos whispered in his mind as he noted the short and pointed tips of the man's ears. Though Mithos' ears were round like a shiny button, he could tell that this man was not an elf, for his ears were in no fashion long enough to be a full one. Plus, he exuded the strange smell of melded human and elf mana, like Martel and himself did.

'Huh.. must be a half elf thing.. and here I thought we were just weird.' He added, an intrigued expression on his young eleven year old face. Kratos, not having paid attention to the perplexed look on Mithos' visage, simply folded his arms against his chest and eyed the old man with a business like expression, his face bored and unreadable once again.

"Good." He responded as his hand reflexively grazed the hilt of his sword. "Then shall we proceed?"

"Indeed." The old man agreed. "The other mayor sends his apologies. He was unfortunately caught up with some.... endeavors and could not meet with you personally."

"It is fine." Kratos replied stiffly, "I am still prepared to complete my task. Also, I have much to discuss with you in particular." The old half elf gazed at the young human skeptically, but his eyes then fell upon Martel and her younger brother and a wave of understanding flushed his face.

"I see." The old mayor replied, glancing over at Martel and then back to Kratos. "Alright, come with me." Waving for them to follow, the old man wobbled down the road, his hand gripping the gnarled old cane with all it could muster. Kratos strode swiftly after the old half elf, his gaze never wavering, and both of the half elf siblings followed suit.

Once the trio reached a house that looked to be made of sturdy cedar, Kratos silently entered the house with the half elf elder, all the while the elder chatting about this and that around the hamlet. However, Martel lingered back near the front stones, her hand on Mithos' shoulder.

"Mithos, wait here." Martel smiled to her brother, bending over and kissing his forehead. Mithos frowned. He wanted to go into the building and hear what was going on too. He was almost twelve. He was old enough to go in, at least, in his mind he was.

"Can't I go in with you?" Mithos asked, staring up at the well managed house. Shaking her head, Martel patted his head and beamed again.

"I'll be right back." She waved to him tenderly and strode into the house in the middle row that had been backed against the stubby fence, shutting the door behind her with a click.

Sighing to himself, Mithos plunked down on the curb of the road and flopped his cheek into his palm.

'Urgh.. more waiting..'

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About a half an hour later, Mithos sat on the side of the road, flicking a rock back and forth with his shoe. He was bored out of his mind, sitting there with nothing to do, and since Kratos and Martel hadn't returned yet from their talks with one of the leaders of the hamlet, he found that being by himself was pretty dull.

"Mithos!" Mithos' boredom was shattered when Martel's voice rang through the air as she strolled towards him, a bundle behind her back and a smile gracing her lovely face. Mithos' head shot straight up and he beamed at her, happy to see his sister, and he bounced over to her.

"Hi, Sis. What's going on?" He asked curiously, looking around her side as he shifted his weight from foot to the other. Martel warmly grinned at him, her face pink and shiny, and took him by the hand.

"Mithos, I want to show you something." She trilled and pulled him off towards the outskirts of the hamlet, her skirts billowing in the wind. Mithos let himself be dragged along, curious by where she was taking him.

At the very end of the houses, Martel paused in front of the last one, a simple, yet clean house in decent condition with a patch of grass in the front. Walking up to the door, she pushed it open and gestured for Mithos to go inside.

"I got this house for us, Mithos." She replied cheerily. "What do you think?" Mithos peered inside the door and his eyes widened.

While the house was incredibly simple, with wooden walls and floors, a wooden table in the middle of the room and a basic kitchen in the wall, Mithos had never been inside a house as nice and well maintained as the one he now stood in. There were no leaks, no holes and the floor was all in one piece, not to mention he didn't see any signs of having a rat roommate or two.

"Wow, Martel.. this is really pretty." He stared around in awe before he looked back at her. "But what did you get a house for?" Martel laughed, mussed his hair and set down her package of things on the table in the middle of the room.

"We're staying here, Mithos." Martel beamed. "The half elf portion of the hamlet's mayor agreed once Kratos talked with him about it. We have a new home now." Mithos blinked in surprise and then beamed at her happily.

"That's great Martel!" He smiled, his entire face lighting up. "We'll finally have a place to stay that people will like us!" Glancing around the room that she had led him to, Mithos dashed over to the window and peered out of it.

"So, where does Kratos live?" He asked. "Does he live on the other side of the village or something?" Martel's happy expression faded slightly as she crossed the room and patted Mithos' head with her hand.

"Mithos, Kratos doesn't live here." She replied kindly. "He is not from here, it seems. We talked about some things while you were asleep last night, and he said that this place is the friendliest towards half elves, though that really apparently isn't saying much." Martel's message sank in like a rock in the stomach of the boy and he realized what she truly meant. If Kratos didn't live there, then that meant he would go home. And if that meant he would go home...

"You mean he's leaving?!" Mithos stared in horror. "Why?!"

"He said he has business to take care of." Martel responded, putting down some of the new dishes she had received from the other half elves. "That's all he said about that. As soon as he dropped us off, he was going to leave again."

"So he's leaving right now?!" The boy asked, his eyes wide with shock. Martel pointed to the main gates.

"Yes, that is what he said. If he's still here, he'll be near the gate." She told him, her finger on the short, yet sturdy wooden fence surrounding the hamlet.

"Okay!" Mithos dashed to the doors and looked back at Martel. "I'll be back later! Thanks, Martel!" He called out gratefully as he sprinted to the exit as fast as his little legs could go.

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"Thank you for assisting our town once again with your inspections, sir." The mayor bowed to Kratos, who in turn bowed back.

"There is no need to thank me." Kratos replied, as he put some supplies that he had received as a gift away. "I am merely doing my duties."

"Well then, may you continue to do so." The mayor bowed to Kratos once more and walked back into the village, whistling to himself as he did so. Shaking his head to stave off his exhaustion that had caught up with him, Kratos gestured to Noishe towards the exit and turned to go, but a sigh caught his hearing. Upon turning his head back to the gate, he saw that a particularly sad half elf boy with blonde hair was staring at him from the corner in the shadows.

"So you're leaving, then." Mithos looked up at Kratos forlornly from his place next to the gate, his eyes pleading for the swordsman not to go.

"I have things to which I must attend." Kratos replied stoically, his left hand still poised at his sword. "My departure is inevitable." Mithos was silent, his heart sinking into his the back of his stomach. Kratos was leaving, but Mithos wanted to stop him. He was going to stop him.

He had to try.

"Why do you have to go?" Mithos asked. "Can't you stay?" Kratos regarded him for a moment and then shook his head once.

"I have things I must do." He returned. "Things to which can no longer be delayed."

"But.. but what about us?" Mithos countered. "What are we gonna do? My sister and I .. what about the rest of the town?" He shifted uncomfortably and looked over his shoulder at it.

"What if they don't like us?" He asked. "What if we don't fit in?"

"I have requested that the other half elves in the hamlet assist you in your settlement here." The older man replied without missing a beat. "They shall help you in your new home and help you adjust to your new lifestyle."

"But.." Mithos began again, but a hand on his head stopped him mid thought. Kratos had placed his hand on the boy's blonde head and patted it gently, though his eyes were still as stern and stiff as ever.

".. Kratos?"

"You will be fine." Kratos stated quietly, a hint of warmth gracing the edges of his voice. "You have a strong will. If you maintain that will, you will do well no matter where you go."

Mithos gaped at him, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

"Uh..." Mithos was lost for words. For the few days that he had known the human swordsman, Kratos rarely ever said anything, let alone praise or that much in a sentence. Noting the boy's sudden silence, Kratos removed his hand and turned to go, his hand systematically returning to the hilt of his sword.

"Hey, Kratos?"

Kratos stopped his strides from the exit and glanced over his shoulder at the half elf boy who still stood near the gate. Mithos hadn't moved from his spot whatsoever, he just stood there like a statue, staring down the human swordsman.

"Will I ever see you again?" He called, the wind blowing his hair about his shoulders. Pausing as he had not been expecting that question, Kratos regarded the boy with a steely eye and sighed shallowly.

"If fate deems it so." The swordsman replied calmly, though a small smile graced his face. "So perhaps, perhaps not."

Like a flash of lightning, Mithos instantly broke out into a jubilant grin which lit up his entire face and made his eyes shine.

"Then I won't say good bye just yet." The boy called back, waving for all he was worth. "I'll see you later, Kratos."

Kratos nodded in response to Mithos' farewell, waved once with a flick of his wrist and then pivoted on his heel. The human then strode down out the path and out of sight, his cape trailing behind him.

"Whine." Noishe watched Kratos leave the little hamlet and turned his furry head over to Mithos, who still peered out of the gate, a truly forlorn look adorning his face. The protozoan trotted over to him, patted his shoulder with an ear and slurped his face for good measure.

"Yeah, I'll miss you too Noishe." Mithos laughed a little as he scratched the ears of the huge animal.

"Whine." Noishe replied and, licking Mithos once more, trotted after his friend who had already left, his bushy tail waving to and fro as he disappeared down the path.

Mithos watched them as they made their way down the sloping path until he couldn't see them anymore. The boy sighed sadly, but a smile quickly overtook his melancholy expression and pepped up.

"Kratos is right. I can do it if I try." He grinned to himself as he pivoted back towards the hamlet he now called 'home'. As he walked, his mind ran over again and again what Kratos had said about 'fate' and whether or not it would feel like having them meet again.

"Here's hoping, Fate." Mithos murmured quietly to the air as he ran back towards his new house where Martel was waiting for him. "Don't let me down."

............................................................................................................................................

Nine weeks after Mithos and Martel began living on the outskirts of the town that Kratos had escorted them to, the half elf boy soon realized the drastic differences between elves and humans in their day to day routines and lifestyles. The lives of the humans were always changing, constantly on the move and never seemed to stop long in one place, which was almost the opposite with the elves, who never really began moving at all. The summon spirits were rarely ever mentioned, unless there was a holiday in which the townspeople could claim the day off. The actual celebration of any holiday in its original form had long since died out of their customs, which was then replaced by raucous behavior and an excessive consumption of alcohol. No one knew the true meaning of each individual day, nor did they really seem to care very much about their abundant lack of knowledge of nature. The humans were too focused on their labor saving technology and their own personal interests, caring nothing for the world around them.

Though, when it came to half elves, the humans were much different than the elves, much different indeed.

They were worse.

While the elves spent their time ignoring and trying to forget that Mithos and Martel even existed, the humans went out of their way to torment the boy on a regular basis, along with the other half elves who lived on the outskirts of town. From little gestures, such as elbowing him sharply in the ribs when he walked by, to larger ones, like tossing him in the mud for nothing in particular, Mithos realized very quickly that the humans had a deep distaste for half elves, one that ran deep into their skin and burned at their very essence.

"Martel, why do they hate us so much?" The boy asked one night as his sister patched up a nasty wound on his face from when a young boy had struck him with a rock. Martel glanced up at her brother as she healed his cheek and smiled sadly at him.

"It's because we are half elves, Mithos." She replied softly, her palm on his cheek. "That's why they don't like us." Mithos frowned at the ground and shook his head.

"But.. they don't even know us." He countered. "How can they hate us if they don't know us?" Martel finished healing his face and sat back, eyeing her handiwork.

"I don't honestly know, Mithos." His sister murmured. "It seems that discrimination runs very deep in their lives." She shook her head, her mint hair drifting about her shoulders and sighed.

"They don't know any better."

Mithos frowned and shook his head, his blonde bangs draped about his nose.

"That's not right." He protested. "They just discriminate because they can and it's easier than actually getting to know us." Curling his hand into a fist, Mithos stared at the ground and glared at the simple wood flooring of their new house.

"Humans... aren't much better than elves.. are they?" he smiled sadly, looking up at his older sister. "They hate us.. just because we're us." Martel observed her forlorn brother for a good minute or three and gently placed her hands on both of his shoulders.

"But Kratos didn't hate us, now did he?" She pointed out. Mithos blinked as thoughts of the auburn haired swordsman, who had rescued him from several sticky situations and who hadn't cared whatsoever when he found them to be half elves, circled in his mind.

"No, he was a good human." Mithos acknowledged, smiling at his sister while he thought about the stoic swordsman. Martel warmly beamed back at him and reached forward, tapping the tip of his nose with her finger.

"Then if there is at least one good human in the world, there must be more out there just waiting to be found." She stated happily. "That gives them hope, as does it us." Mithos watched her for a moment, taking in what she said, and mulled it in his mind.

"Yeah, you're right Martel." He eventually nodded cheerily in agreement. "We can't give up on them yet! If we still hang onto some hope, then they'll have a chance to see us for who we are, not what we are." Jumping to his feet, Mithos pumped a fist in the air and nodded determinedly.

"I'm gonna do my best to show them that race doesn't matter." He proclaimed, his blue eyes shining with fervor. "I'm not gonna give up until they see me for me!" Glowing at Mithos' newfound vigor, Martel ruffled his hair and handed him a bucket.

"Well, now that you've been fully patched up and back to your usual perky self, would you please run out and get me some water?" She asked as Mithos fumbled with the bucket in his hands. Looking up from the bucket, Mithos nodded jubilantly and trotted out the door, the bucket swinging behind him. Martel watched her brother exit the door and sighed, her face set in a sad smile.

"Sweet boy.. may you never lose your heart and drive."

............................................................................................................................................

Mithos hummed to himself merrily as he carried the large bucket of water back to the house, carefully swinging it back and forth as he walked. Swinging it, he found, helped him distribute the weight of the water without it straining his arms too much and allowed him the ability to walk longer. The night air briskly swept through his hair and bounced happily about his face as it continued its nightly waltz of the trees. Summer nightly breezes were always a favorite of Mithos'. Whenever he had to do some chores or was just helping around with Martel, the cool, yet fresh smelling winds never ceased to make him smile.

'Summer at night.. it's just so healthy smelling.' The boy mused to himself. 'Just like the smell of fresh rain, flowers and...' Mithos paused and sniffed the air.

'... smoke?'

"MITHOS!"

Jumping out of his skin, the petite boy skirted into the sky, lost his grip on the huge bucket of water and sent it clattering to the ground. Someone had called his name, he knew that, but their voice didn't sound happy.

It sounded panic stricken.

The boy scanned all around the forest floor, trying to see anyone who could have called his name, but frowned when all he was met with were trees.

"Huh.. that's funny.. I must be imagining things-"

The boy was suddenly cut off when he noticed a flurry of green hair and white skirts scamper towards him with just short the speed of Noishe.

"Martel?" Mithos tilted his head in bewilderment and walked perplexed towards her, his bucket long forgotten. Martel continued to run full tilt towards Mithos until she reached him and then clutched her chest, her normally pale face beet red.

"Thank the Tree... I found you...." She gasped, her hands clutching the folds of her skirt. Mithos quickly rushed to his sister and helped her calm down, as she was breathing far too hard and couldn't get her breath back well.

"Martel, what's going on?" Her brother asked, not used to seeing his sister in such a state. Martel slowly inhaled and pointed back from where she had come.

"Intruders.... soldiers.... broke into the hamlet." She rasped, her mint hair all about her face. "They stormed in, set it on fire and are burning it to the ground." Martel coughed violently and steadied herself against the trunk of a tree, mint hair laying limp against her chest. Horrified to see his sister in such a sickly condition and by what she had said, Mithos dashed up to Martel and held her arm, attempting to help her steady herself.

"Martel, ...what did they do?" Mithos inquired, his eyes wide and fearful like a bunny caught by a hungry fox. "What's happening to the hamlet?" Martel glanced down at Mithos and pulled him into a fierce hug, squishing his lungs in her arms.

""When everyone ran out of the burning... they started slaughtering them left and right. The entire hamlet's being burnt to the ground." she whispered, her voice raspy and choked with smoke. "I managed to sneak out the back door and escape into the forest.. but I don't think anyone else made it out." Letting out a shallow gasp, Mithos broke out of Martel's grasp and stared deeply into her face, searching for any hint that she was kidding.

Sadly, there was no trace of a joke anywhere about her features.

"Martel, why'd this happen?" He asked horrified, looking back to the tips of orange bonfire that illuminated the black night sky just over the trees, as the fire was growing in height that it had not attained when Martel had arrived. "Was it because we were half elves? Is that why, just like in Heimdall?"

Martel turned her eyes back in the direction of the smoldering town and shook her head.

"It wasn't just the half elves, Mithos. The intruders went after the humans first." She responded numbly. "This wasn't about race. They just wanted to destroy."

Mithos didn't reply.

He was too busy burning with fierce infuriation as the flames licked over the tips of the trees and crisped all that it touched.

They had destroyed his new home. Others had taken it away from him, along with the homes and lives of the rest of the villages. He thought that, even if the humans didn't like him all that much, he had at least had a place he thought he could call home. But these people.. no... these monsters .. they took it away from him. Who they were, he didn't know, but he didn't really care.

Rage and anger brewed like a thick stew in the pit of his stomach and he clenched his boyish hand into a tight fist, his body shaking. In a surge of fury, the tiny half elf boy sprinted towards the destroyed village, vengeance for his lost home, and perplexed over the identities of the culprits for the hamlet's destruction swirling in his mind.

"Mithos, where are you going?!" Martel called, panicked, "Come back!" Her silver skirts whipping about her legs, the slender half elf raced after her brother, determined to stop him before he did something rash that would get others or himself hurt.

............................................................................................................................................

When Martel finally found him, Mithos was crouched against an old pine, fervently eying the men who had torn his new life apart with all he could. The town was little more than a few rickety wooden frames of what used to be houses now, the once clean and fresh buildings torn apart by fire and abuse, while men dressed in oddly colored uniforms ranged all over, searching for survivors so they could be consequently snuffed out. Turning her mint eyebrows down in a hard stare, Martel ducked behind a nearby rock and peered around at them, though they could not see her or Mithos.

"Alright men, we're done here." A middle aged man with a patch of silver facial hair at the tip of his chin called to the rest. Murmuring a collected 'Sir!', the soldiers retracted from the hamlet's charred remains and marched down the hill in one large cluster. Glowering, Mithos eyed them all as they left and crunched a handful of bark between his fingers.

"Mithos.. Mithos.." Martel tried to gain his attention without giving away her position as she hid behind a particularly tall rock, but to no avail. He was far too focused on the perpetrators that had annihilated his newfound home to have heard her.

'Where are they headed?' Mithos asked himself as he watched the retreating soldiers disappear behind a grove of trees. Getting to his feet, Mithos peered around the tree he hid behind and glared. He then crept over to another tree, craned his neck around the base of the trunk and watched the soldiers strut past. Back over behind the boulder, Martel turned an unhealthily pale color as Mithos inched his way closer to the platoon and her breath fell flat.

"Mithos, what are you think you're doing?" Martel hissed in hushed tones, her voice strained. "Get back here, they'll see you!" Having finally heard her, Mithos turned his head back to his sister, shook his head and pointed after them.

"I'm gonna follow them. They won't get away with this." Mithos swore as he took off after the arsonists who had burned down the village. Taking extra care so he was not seen, Mithos dodged out from behind the trees and darted along after them, hiding in each bush as he came to it.

Martel, wracked with worry for her indignant little brother, followed him into the bushes and peered over through the thicket as he did.

Just beyond the thicket of bushes and shrubs, a large, yet fairly simple campsite stretched over the field, with small fires cropped up with ten to fifteen soldiers per fire. Mithos gaped. He had never seen so many people in once place, let alone all of them soldiers with matching gold and green uniforms. Scrunching up his nose, Mithos craned his neck further out into the bush and squinted his eyes so he could see the soldiers as they all squatted around their campfires.

What he saw he never had expected.

Instead of being shaken by the slaughter they had just come from, the soldiers seemed to be perfectly relaxed and comfortable, not a care in the world as they wiped the blood of so many from their swords. Mithos frowned, his eyes still in a squint, and stared at their uniforms.

"Those soldiers.. are they Sylvaranti?" He asked his sister as he continued his long, hard stare. Martel craned her neck as far as it would go without her being noticed and squinted as well, trying to get a good look at the soldiers' outfits before.

"I don't know... but they aren't wearing the same armor as the platoon of Tethe'allan soldiers, nor do they have the worn and dilapidated appearance of mercenaries or bandits." She replied, her mint tapered eyebrows creased downwards. "So, I believe you may be right, Mithos." Mithos frowned as he noticed them all lounge about in their campsite and ducked into the bush when a pair of soldiers, who were obviously drunk after raiding the town's tavern, staggered by, both of them supporting the other.

"But why?" Mithos whispered as he watched another soldier walk by with a sack of goods that had been stolen from the ruins of the town. "Why would they attack the town? I know now there's a war going on and it has been for a while, but the town had nothing to do with it." Martel let out a forlorn breath and broke her gaze from the soldiers so she watched Mithos, her large eyes heavy and misted.

"Mithos.. sometimes, when there is a war, there are those who feel they can gain power and prowess over the others by attacking those that are defenseless and innocent." She explained. "The Sylvaranti army must have thought so and did it in order to show the Tethe'allans that they have the power to attack anyone they deem fit."

"That's horrible." Mithos gasped as he turned his eyes back onto the lounging soldiers. Martel nodded in agreement and did the same.

"It is, very much so, a horrible thing, but there is a very good chance that that was their motivation for destroying the town like that." She responded quietly.

"Now men, you all know the drill!" A loud booming voice echoed through the trees, causing both half elf siblings to start in shock and all of the soldiers to shift their attention to the source of the voice. A young man, one with a shock of orange hair stood on the tip of one of the commandeered wagons, his short, yet fuzzed hair framing his wax like face. He too wore the same outfits as the typical soldiers, yet a large and jewel encrusted pin graced itself on his breast and shone in the mixed light of both the moon and the fires.

"That's gotta be their leader." Mithos grimaced as he craned his head back over the bush for a better look. In response to his craning, Martel pulled him back down low the ground and nodded swiftly.

"Most likely, but hush." She told him softly, putting a finger to her lips. Mithos complied and made a zipper motion over his mouth before he then turned back to watch the commander's pronouncement.

"Men, it's been a long day and well... it's pretty easy to say that you all did a job well done." He flamboyantly gestured to the flaming ruins of the town, which in turned earned a round of laughs among the armada's campsite.

"So, rest for the night and then we can set on the next town, one that is up the ways a bit." He called. "We'll strike town after town, hamlet after hamlet, until Tethe'alla has no choice, but to retaliate." The orange haired speaker let the message sink in, and then smirked evilly.

"Their precious king can pretend that we are no threat, that we don't even exist. Well, that ends now!" He stamped his boot through a brick of concrete that had occupied itself near his foot and when he removed his foot, Mithos saw that all that was left was a pile of dust.

'How did.. how did he do that?' Mithos asked himself, but he lost his train of thought when the booming voice of the commander picked up again.

"He sends his armies to the main lines like he always does to meet the Sylvaranti Army, as have the kingships for a thousand years before him, but he knows as well as we do that he is a weak and incompetent man who never should have ascended the throne after his father bit the dust. One false move on his part and he will have no means of opposing a new order!"

Pacing back and forth along the wooden floor of the wagon, the orange haired man suddenly ceased his pacing and pointed a finger directly at the army, who collectively jumped back in shock.

"That's why we're going to take him down by destroying all of these towns. I heard a few of you talking amongst yourselves about why all of these pathetic excuses for settlements were getting toasted, and so I figured it would get you all better motivated if you were told why." Bringing up his arm, the commander raised his right index finger and waved it back and for like blades of grass been blown along by a series of opposing winds.

"The king of this sad, little country is a coward. Craven, useless and pathetic. He thrives off the fact that he is safely holed away in his little capital, hidden by his huge stone castle and protected by his fearsome little kennel of knight guard dogs, while thousands of his own people go to their deaths on the battlefields every day. That's the only reason he hasn't fled and left the rule of Tethe'alla to someone else. However, what if all of that was taken away?" The waxy commander brought his hand up into a fist and clenched it as if he was crushing a gnat.

"He'd panic under the pressure and collapse beneath the strain, leaving easy pickin's for us."

"So, once all of the surrounding towns and settlements have been crushed, we will attack the capital of Tethe'alla and lay waste to it until it is nothing more than a shadow of what it once was!" The commander flicked his pin so it clanged in the silent, yet heavy air as all of the warriors waited on baited breath for his next word.

"And then when their fool of a king wavers in the moments of darkness that lay ahead of him, we will crush his pathetic and flaccid rule and a new era will begin! One of glory!" A huge wave of cheering erupted from the crowds of soldiers, each chanting their own praise over their fearless leader whose ambitious tactics would surely lead them to a swift victory. However, in the bushes, a deep feeling of dread cascaded over Mithos, soaking his body with it and drenching his mind in apprehension.

"Martel, what does that mean exactly?" He whispered to his sister out of the corner of his mouth, not taking his eyes off the company's camp.

"It seems as though the king is defined by his security and if something happens to rid him of it, they believe they will have a surefire way of overthrowing him." Martel replied as she eyed them all, her breathing very shallow. Mithos' heart jumped in his throat and he swallowed hard, his throat parched with nervousness.

"They're gonna take over Tethe'alla." He breathed. "They're gonna destroy everyone..." Turning to Martel, the tiny boy frowned and pointed to the soldiers, though his hand never left the bush.

"Martel, we've gotta tell somebody." Mithos stated seriously, his blonde hair falling into his face. "If we don't tell anybody about that army coming, more people will get hurt or worse!" His sister observed Mithos, taking in his wish, but she slowly turned her eyes back to the gaggle of soldiers, her shoulders drooped.

"Mithos, while I know you are very right about your concerns, who can we tell?" She asked, her eyes lingering on the backs of the band of soldiers who had just annihilated the town before them. "Anyone who had any means of doing something about their encroaching attack on the town would have been slaughtered by now, and anyone else would have run. There is no one to turn to." Mithos glowered at the ground and stared back at the soldiers, especially one who were now traipsing around drunkenly in what looked like a frilly pink woman's apron, while the others guffawed obnoxiously. There had to be somewhere who he could go. Somewhere we he would be able to find help, or at least, tell them what had happened so it could be prevented later on.

'Where.. where I can I go?' The petite half elf asked himself, his brain wracked in thought. 'There has to be somewhere...'

Meltokio.

The city that Kratos had mentioned, the most powerful city in all of Tethe'alla, and the capital, suddenly flashed through his mind and brightly shone in an array of different colors, each more lurid than the last. Mithos remembered that the auburn haired swordsman told him that Meltokio was only about a day's walk from the now crisped congregation of buildings that used to be a hamlet.

"We've gotta go to the capital, Meltokio." The half elf boy exclaimed in an excited, yet hushed whisper. "Kratos said it wasn't too far away from here, about a day's travel. We can tell someone there what's coming and then they'll be able to do something about it." He clenched his hand into a fist and stared back at the band of soldiers that were camped out into the distance.

"We can't let this happen!" Turning to his sister, Mithos stared pleadingly into her aqua eyes wit his own sapphire irises.

"Please Martel. Please. We have to try."

Martel gazed at her brother, his face wracked with determination, shifted her eyes to the soldiers and then to the burning husk of the town as it crackled and charred beneath the orange flames.

".. Alright Mithos. Let's go to Meltokio." She agreed. "You are right. We cannot stand by and let this happen." Making sure the pair of them were entirely out of view of the soldiers, Martel pointed to the cobbled road in front of them.

"It will take us a while, but I believe we can get there if we travel this road." She told him firmly, yet smiling as she did so. "Let's go." Brushing a bit of the charred wood off of her sleeve, Martel gracefully got to her feet and began down the path, her mint hair swishing behind her.

Grinning at Martel, Mithos turned his eyes back to the remains of the destroyed town and his eyes shifted into a glare, letting out a harsh breath. Eying it for a moment, the half elf boy shook his head and turned around, his eyes locked on the highway.

After that, Mithos didn't look back at the charred ghosts that used to be houses any longer. He was too focused on what he wanted to do, what he decided he had to do.

'I won't let this happen. It has to be stopped before more people get hurt.' He told himself sternly. 'Half elf, human or whatever, I promise I won't let that happen again.' With the silent pact on his heart sealed, Mithos dashed after Martel, pounding down the worn and ancient path that stretched in front of him.

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**Mweheheh! The long since due chapter is finally complete!**

**Mithos: So, we're now off to Meltokio, right?**

**Me: Yep.**

**Mithos: Sounds like fun to me!**

**Me: Oh, it will be.... it will be.**

**Mithos: ..... what are you planning?**

**Me: ... you'll see.**

**Martel: That's... fairly unsettling.**

**Mithos: What's going on? What's gonna happen?**

**Me: In time... in time...**

**Please Review!**


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